


Blood and Oil

by KirkwallsChamp



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mad Max - Freeform, Mad Max AU, Mayhem, Post-Apocalyptic, Smut, mad max alternate universe, mad-max au, madmax au, post apocalyptic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 55,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4353140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkwallsChamp/pseuds/KirkwallsChamp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon age/ Mad Max AU in which the Hero of Ferelden, Champion of Kirkwall and the Herald of Andraste find themselves abandoned in the desert, spit out of a rift, and in need of a way to get home.</p>
<p>[[Pairings include Inquisitor/Dorian, Warden/Alistair & Fem!Hawke/Varric]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> chapter one serves as a prologue. please enjoy!

**The air hissed and popped as** a rift cracked the sky apart. They tumbled like ragdolls as three rifts splintered together, tossing them onto the sands under a white moon.

Hawke awoke first, next to the Inquisitor, Evinn Trevelyan. She moved to shake him awake, but a moan to her left caused her to jump back in surprise. An unfamiliar woman with short dark hair stirred painfully. Something was eerily familiar about her-- as if Hawke knew her by proxy.

"Andraste's flaming knickers," she cursed, "What just happened?"

Hawke chuckled dryly, "Your guess is as good as mine."

The girl whirled around toward Hawke, scrambling for the heavy war-hammer that dropped beside her.

Something beat inside Hawke's head.  _War-hammer... Now I know I've heard this before._

Evinn groaned as he came to. The woman wielded the hammer between them unsteadily.

The green light of the rift crackled threateningly in Evinn's right palm as he sat up.

"Glad to see you're up, Inquisitor," Hawke said gruffly, arms outstretched defensively toward the woman warrior, "Care to explain what the hell just happened, and where the hell we are?"

"Inquisitor?"

the woman warrior dropped her stance moomentarily, "Like, the Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor?"

Hawke nodded, "... And you are?"

The girl was silent for a moment, considering how to go about answering the question. She sighed.

"My name is Janna Cousland. I'm a Grey Warden Commander, in Amaranthine."

Hawke's jaw dropped, "That's how I know you!"

Evinn shot her a confused look, begging for elaboration.

  
She chuckled.

"Alistair, Inquisitor. He spoke about her quite often. Say hello to the Hero of Ferelden."

Janna's eyes widened at the mention of her lover.

"And just how do you know Alistair?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Evinn put his hand up, silencing the two.

"Let's discuss that in a moment. We're in danger if we leave these rifts open."

Evinn put his right palm skyward, anchoring himself and began to work on closing the rifts. The three stood in tense silence as the rifts popped and crackled in reply.

As the final rift closed, Hawke ran in and caught the Inquisitor as he faltered. Three rifts at once proved to be almost too much-- he felt faint and very dizzy.

"Warden, do you have any water skins?" Hawke called, easing Evinn to the sand beneath them.

"One, in my pack..." Janna trailed off, amazed. It was the first time she'd ever dealt with rifts. She turned to dig through her things, only to stumble upon a very wide eyed and thoroughly frightened dwarf.

The two stood in locked eye contact for a moment, before Janna could struggle out, "Bodahn?"

Hawke whirled around, "Bodahn?!"

The dwarf looked utterly confused.

"How do you know my name? How did you close that hole in the sky?!"

Hawke eyed the dwarf quietly-- something was off.

  
Instead of his normally pristine grooming habits, Bodahn's beard and hair were scraggly and wind blown. His clothes were covered in a layer of dust, and unfamiliar-- his simple breeches were wrapped tight with black shreds of cloth, and his shirt dangled around him underneath a tattered black cloak. He clutched Janna's pack close to his chest, eyes darting between the three of them fearfully.

"I'll ask you again," he said, voice wavering slightly, "How did you close the hole in the sky?"

Evinn lifted his palm toward the merchant, quietly.

"My name is Evinn. I'm the... Some call me the Herald of Andraste," he corrected himself, "I can close rifts in the fade."

Bodahn looked at Evinn's palm in awe, resisting the urge to examine it closer.

"You're a tinker then-- or a thinker!"

Now it was Evinn's turn to be confused.

"A what? Sir, I'm a mage. A magic user."

"Right-- a tinker or a thinker," Bodahn seemed sure of his answer. nodding to himself, he turned back to his cart, Janna's pack still clutched tightly to his chest.

"Hey!" She shouted, clamoring after him.

"Boy's got to eat-- we've been on the road 3 days now and we've run out of supplies. Surely you've enough to spare," He continued, not looking at them.

Janna audibly protested, until Bodahn drew back a blanket on the back of the cart to reveal a very dirty and scrawny familiar face.

"Hello," Sandal smiled weakly at them.

\----------------------------------------------

"Tell the nice ladies and gentleman thank you, Sandal," Bodahn chided, helping Hawke and Janna load themselves into the back of his cart, "After all, they've made sure you've got food in your belly, and old Bodahn has enough to barter at the next colony."

There was unmistakable glee in his voice, like he'd struck the deal of the century, though the three were mystified as to what it could have been. They'd traded a day's rations each, and any coin they'd had on their person, for a trip with Bodahn and Sandal to the next village, or colony, as he'd called it.

They sat in silence, processing what just occurred.

Janna stared at the woman across from her intently, before it finally dawned on her.

"I know you--" she stumbled over her words, "Alistair wrote me about you! You're Hawke, the one from Kirkwall-- said you traveled with the story-telling dwarf, Varric, and-- and Anders!"

Hawke bristled, "I... I don't travel with Anders any longer. But yes, I'm Ghena Hawke. I met Alistair in the Deep Roads a long time ago. He saved my brother from the taint..."

Janna couldn't stop a dry chuckle, "If you can call that saving him," and avoided a scalding look from Hawke in reply.

"And yes, I introduced Alistair to the Inquisition. We found him hiding in a cave outside Crestwood, hiding from a different Warden Commander-- Clarel?" Hawke tried, gauging a reaction from the woman warrior. There was something similar in her mannerisms, yet she couldn't quite place it.

Evinn nodded thoughtfully, "And you know who I am... but that doesn't help us solve where we are."

Bodahn cleared his throat.

"Well, there isn't really a title for where we are, aside from Thedas."

Evinn chuckled, "Helpful."

A thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he grew deadly serious.

"Mr. Feddic-- What year is it?"  
  
Bodahn mulled over the question quietly, counting to himself. Janna and Hawke exchanged glances, unsure of how to process the exchange going on.

Finally Bodahn answered, "It is post-greatwar era."

When no one answered, he sighed, "The mutatant has been at the seat of the Black Citadel for 20 cycles. Does that help?"

Evinn looked mortified.

"Do you know... this mutant's name?"

his voice came quietly.

"If I'm not mistaken, son, I believe its Cory-something... Cory-pheus."

Evinn's head dropped sullenly against the back of the splintered wood of the cart as Hawke turned and looked at him, eyes wide.

After a moment in stony silence, he processed his thoughts aloud.

"When I first met Dorian--"

"His boyfriend," Hawke interjected, quietly.

"My-- yes, my boyfriend," He sputtered, embarassedly, "We were intercepted by a mage, Alexius, who sent us forward in time by mistake. some vein of magic Dorian had been studying with him. I didn't think it possible, but..."

Janna looked incredulously at him, "Do you mean to tell me we've been sent somewhere in time, Inquisitor?"

Evinn shook his head, silently.

"Not in our time, no... I think we're in an alternate place. As well as an alternate time."

Hawke looked him up and down.

"And Corypheus is already in control here," she agreed.

"Which means?"

"The colonies are in trouble," quipped Sandal.

  
A sudden mechanical thundering caused the merchant's cart to shudder, and headlights held the three unwelcome visitors locked in a dazed silence.

 


	2. Red Warriors

**Voices called from beyond the headlights.**

"We have you surrounded! Surrender or face the consequences!"

Hawke peeled her staff off her shoulder, quietly, nudging at Evinn to do the same. Janna's fingers flexed around the pommel of her war-hammer, watching the other two as they primed themselves.

The voice from behind the headlights taunted once more, "Are we to expect surrender?"

Janna looked past the lights, begging her eyes to focus. She could see a red glow, but nothing else.

Without warning, Hawke stood and vaulted the side of the cart, yelling at the top of her lungs. Janna sprang to her feet, lunging after the mage, thoroughly confused about any sort of plan she may have cooked up on her own. Evinn stayed back, beginning to cast a ward over the cart itself-- he, Bodahn and Sandal were bathed in a calming green light as barriers formed around them.

Evinn could see beyond the headlamps now as his eyes adjusted-- their attackers sported red, glowing growths that protruded from underneith their clothing. Of course-- they had to be red lyrium, he supposed.

"Hawke--" he called from inside the barrier, "Red Lyrium!"

She nodded, recognizing this as well. As she advanced upon the group, she sent a spray of fireballs careening towards them. They looked slightly taken aback, moving toward their loud machinery once again.

"Tinkers!" one of them called, climbing into the back of one of the machines. It roared to life, deafening and terrifying, giving Hawke a brief moment of pause. Janna tore past her at this moment, swinging the war-hammer heavily into a rudimentary turret weapon the trooper had tried to claim. It connected with a terrifying crack, and the turret came down, the person behind swinging with it. Janna pulled the heavy hammer back once more, sending it down on the man with a sickening thud. He didn't move, and she turned back to look at Hawke, shrugging urgently for some backup.

Hawke obliged, steeling her nerves to ignore the other two war machines as they rumbled to life around them. She sent a pulse of crushing force down on one of them, compressing the brittle metal with a snap. The driver inside yelped in panic, trying unsucessfully to open the door of the quickly compressing vehicle. His scream died off as the vehicle was forced into the sand, his arms going limp and moving no more. An archer ducked from behind the third vehicle, sending a spray of arrows in her direction, but Hawke sent another fireball to meet them, and they fell to harmless ash at her feet. She made eye contact with the archer, giving him a terrifying grin, before a bolt of electricity erupted from the end of her staff. She didn't watch to see if it landed, as Evinn bellowed, "Hawke!", and she wheeled in time to see another approaching her on foot, swinging a spiked club toward her.

Janna moved to position herself between the two, when Hawke thrust her staff up quickly enough to connect with the lyrium warrior's jaw, snapping his head skyward and sending him backward, thoroughly off balance. Janna swung through with the brunt force of her hammer, hearing the satisfying splinter of bone as its head connected with the warriors chest. He fell with a thump, dazed and coughing blood.

Evinn threw up an ice wall between Hawke and Janna as the archer sprayed another volley of arrows.

"Not done yet!" he called, placing glyphs as he spoke.

Hawke hissed in pain as an arrow whizzed closely past her thigh, cutting fabric and drawing blood to the surface.

The thunder of a runed grenade tore through the air as Sandal whipped something small and bright white, connecting with the archer and sending him sprawling, only to freeze him in place, a terrified look on his face.

"Boom!" Sandal cheered from behind Evinn.

"Good old Sandal," Hawke managed to chuckle, clutching at her thigh as it twinged painfully. Perhaps she'd needed to be more careful.

The sound of a war-machine door being wrenched open caused Hawke to spin around, seeing the final warrior bleeding profusely as he struggled to pull himself in. Janna made to lunge after him, but it was too late-- not bothering to close the door, the red lyrium trooper peeled away, sending sand sprawling in his wake.

The three puffed, out of breath, in silence as the calm of the desert returned. No sound came from around them save for one still running war-machine, manned by no one.

Sandal jumped up from the cart, motioning to the machine and his father, trying to convey his sheer excitement.

"Yes, Sandal," Bodahn stated cautiously, "It's a war-machine all right."

"Still working!" he squeaked gleefully.

Bodahn's brows furrowed, "So it is, lad."

He turned on them, glancing at each one in turn as he turned the war-machine off, and chained it to the back of the cart. The extra weight would slow them, but it was another stroke of luck he couldn't just leave behind, much to Sandal's delight.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

Hawke couldn't help but snort, "You watched us fall out of the sky and close it up, and you're just getting that now?"

Janna deposited her hammer back into the cart, rubbing her shoulders.

"Just bring us to the Colony, Bodahn, and we'll be out of your hair," she sighed.

Bodahn nodded, but Hawke noted his brow continue to furrow as he chided Sandal back into the cart. Something was on the old dwarf's mind, she could tell. Whether it was dangerous or not remained to be seen.

Evinn grabbed Hawke's waist, helping hoist her back into the cart as she limped back into range. She attempted to wave him away with a chuckle, though it came through gritted teeth. The area already felt enflamed, perhaps from something tainting the arrowhead, or perhaps because it had bitten deeper than she'd initially realized.

Evinn dug in his pack, retrieving a health poultice.

"Bodahn, do we have any bandages?" he called, setting Hawke's leg overtop his knee to examine the wound. Bodahn groaned, "There's linen in the pack to your left, but beyond that, we're a few hours out from Kirkwall, and we should be able to find more there."

Hawke's heart skipped a beat.

"Did you say," she stumbled over her words, sweat beading on her forehead, "Kirkwall?"

"Aye," he shrugged, "The closest Colony."

She shuddered involuntarily as a particularly cool wind bit through her tunic. Perhaps shock had to do with it too.

"We need to go," Evinn cautioned, his fingertips glowing blue as he tried to heal the wound. The skin began to itch, but made no attempt at closing. Hawke's fingers clenched around her thigh, her breath hitching in her throat.

"Healing spells aren't working," Evinn's voice was tinged with worry.

"What's going on now?" Bodahn looked around from the front of the cart as he drove, worriedly.

"Hawke-- our other... Tinker, you called us, she was hit during the fight."

"Grazed," she corrected, breath hissing as Evinn wrapped a strip of linen around her leg.

Bodahn looked worried, "There are some healers in Kirkwall. Lets pick up the pace."

Evinn watched Hawke warily. She tried to act like nothing was wrong, but he could tell she was in a lot of pain. Sweat ran from her forehead, down her chin.

"Cousland-- I'll bet you a drink I know who's in Kirkwall," She said hazily.

Janna looked at her suspiciously.

"You expect me to believe that in this alternate... place, you know someone?"

Evinn interjected, "You both knew of Bodahn Feddic, did you not?"

Janna sighed, "I suppose. Hawke, how do you know Bodahn?"

Hawke tried to stay awake, though it was becoming increasingly difficult. She felt sluggish, her senses dulled.

"We went on the... Deep Roads Expedition together... Sandal got lost on a path, and we went to find him. They ended up living with us in Kirkwall."

Bodahn snorted, "I've never seen you before in my life."

Sandal, however, nodded along as if he'd known them his whole life.

"Glad to see you," he smiled.

Janna looked back at him, shocked at his response.

"Sandal, did you recognize us?"

He continued to smile, but didn't answer the question.

Hawke's eyes closed, and she drifted into unconsciousness as the cart continued to fumble over the sandy hills. She could hear Evinn's voice, panicked as he tried to wake her up, but she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep for the time being. And thus she faded.


	3. Dingy Dust & Kirkwall

 

 

**Hawke awoke to a** cooling sensation dabbing at her neck and collarbone.

 

“Hold still, Hawke... I'm nearly finished,” a familiar voice hushed her as she struggled to rouse.

Her vision still blurred as her senses came back.

Her thigh pulsed dully.

The cool feeling withdrew, and she heard the echoing of water splashing as the rag was deposited back in a cool basin.

Her eyes began to focus, and she saw Anders staring back at her sadly.

“Glad to see you're awake, Hawke. Your new friends were afraid they'd lost you.”

His voice came out meekly, and he refused to look her in the eyes.

Hawke's immediate reaction was to jump back, increasing the distance between them, though her leg proved useless at the venture. A pained hiss escaped her lips at the action.

“Sit still, you're still recovering!” Anders cautioned sharply.

They sat in silence, staring at each other, before Hawke managed a shaky question.

“You know who I am?”

He nodded quietly.

“I'm the same Anders... you knew. A long time ago.”

“The one who blew up the Chantry,” Her tone was biting.

“Yes,” he conceded, “The very same.”

He took a deep breath.

“I know you and I don't see eye to eye about what was done, but I am not ashamed. And for what its worth, in this world it doesn't matter.”

Hawke couldn't follow. She was stuck on a question.

“How did you get here?”

Anders chuckled.

“Honestly, I don't know... Justice led me here. That's all I can say.”

Hawke was still having trouble processing, but the two were interrupted as Evinn Trevelyan tore into the room, unable to mask his fearful expression.

“Is she--”

Anders turned to face the man with a chuckle, “She's fine. You have nothing to fear.”

Evinn looked Anders up and down, “But my healing spells--”

“Didn't work because the Fade is not easily accessible here,” Anders corrected him, “I know. It's taken me a while to find a workaround, but, the people here have to rely on artifacts to get healing.”

He motioned to the green globe-esque structure in the corner of the dirty hut.

Hawke looked around for the first time since waking up. They were in a dirty room, cramped and cluttered with Anders' effects. There was a table filled with scraps of paper and a tin of soot Anders had been using as a writing implement. Janna stuck her head in moments later, before throwing an arm around Anders' shoulder.

“Welcome back, Hawke. Glad to see my favorite male apostate could patch you up so easily,” She chuckled, ruffling his hair affectionately.

Anders chuckled, before correcting her, “Apostate and spirit companion, Commander.”

She sighed, “So you keep telling me. I can't believe you took Justice with you.”

He put up a hand, “Justice needed a host. I did what anyone would do for a friend.”

Hawke seemed mystified by the exchange. Here was the Hero of Ferelden, exchanging quips with one of the most dangerous mages in Kirkwall, her arm still wrapped around his shoulders like nothing bad could happen.

“You... Know each other?” she managed weakly.

Janna nodded.

“Back when he was a warden, Anders and I spent a time saving Amaranthine. Felled a talking darkspawn, went by the name of 'The Architect'. Terrifying stuff, really. Justice followed us from the Fade and took on the body of a dead Grey Warden by the name of Kristoff.”

“She got me my cat,” Anders laughed.

Hawke looked surprised, “Sir Pounce-a-lot? I thought you made him up for story's sake.”

Anders outright laughed, “I never!”

Evinn stood back and allowed the three to catch up a moment, looking over Hawke's wound. The skin had knit back together but a deep bruise remained.

“Will you be able to walk all right, Hawke?” He asked after the three had quieted down some.

She looked up at him, and then at Anders.

“I'm not sure... Will I?”

Anders smiled.

“You'll be fine, Hawke. You've had closer scrapes with death than that little thing. The arrowhead was coated with a sedative-like poison. They use that when they notice a war-band has tinkers-- mages, sorry. it makes you move slow, want to sleep, gives you the sweats, but is at most meant to keep you sluggish 'til someone else on their team can dispatch you.”

Hawke groaned as she made to stand.

“That isn't to say that the actual scrape site isn't going to cause you some trouble. You barely missed getting hit Hawke, and healing magic doesn't work the same way here. You'll heal over quicker time than normal, but you're not in fighting condition yet.”

He shook his head as she continued to struggle to her feet.

“There is something else you need to know about. All of you.”

Janna looked at him quizzically, and Evinn moved closer.

Anders sighed.

“You're all.... dead, here. Yes, this world parallels our own, in that some here are identical to people you know in Thedas, but... the circumstances are different. World events play out differently here.”

He went to the table, rifling through papers til he brought back a particular diagram to show the adventurers.

“Arch Demons here are not what you know them as,” he motioned, passing the paper for them to inspect.

The paper depicted a hulking mass of metal and rigging, the great truck filled with multiple turrets and other threatening looking weapons.

“Janna, in this world you and your friends did take down the Arch Demon, Urthemiel, but...”

Janna nodded, mouth suddenly dry.

“But I died doing so.”

He nodded.

“You drove a war-machine into it. That's how hand-to-hand warriors work here-- they drive the machines while rogues and mages operate long-range.”

Evinn agreed, “With spells that makes sense, along with our experience getting attacked by that group last night.”

“You threw them off guard, no doubt,” Anders chuckled, “They weren't expecting magic. Or a fight, for that matter.”

Hawke looked at Anders quietly.

“One of them escaped.”

Anders turned to her, surprised.

“Do you know what direction they fled?”

“Opposite of us,” Evinn said, “We were so confused we didn't pursue. Is this a problem?”

Anders sighed, fingers flying to his temples, “It could be, though it may not be. In any case we need to let Aveline and the other guards know immediately. If they retaliate, we don't want to be caught with our pants down.”

He led the three out the door of the dingy hut, and into the streets of the Kirkwall colony. The colony itself was encased in heavy sandstone, with high towers overlooking the desert from all four corners. It was a small encampment, with less than 500 people, Anders explained as they crossed through a bustling market.

Bodahn waved to them from beside his cart, and Evinn answered with a noncommital wave in return. Onward they trekked however, until they reached a rusted iron gate. Anders turned, looking them over in determined silence.

“Hawke... This isn't going to be easy,” he sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Most of our friends were there when you died. Convincing them that you somehow survived will be nothing short of a miracle.”

“How did I die?” She asked, unable to contain her morbid curiosity.

“There was a raid,” Anders sighed, “You, Varric, Aveline and I were on a patrol, when we were ambushed by the raiding party. Aveline was driving a bigger rig, and Varric and I needed ground cover. You provided a distraction for us, but it proved to be too much to handle alone.”

She wanted to push for more information. The concept of this fighting style was still too new for her to process. So she'd been alone, drawing enemy fire?

Anders refused to talk on it further, however.

“Suffice it to say,” he managed, “It was not an easy thing for us to watch.”

The iron gate creaked open and the three whirled around to see a flash of strawberry hair and fiery cording.

 


	4. Plan

 

**“Anders?”**

The familiar voice caused a lump to form in Hawke's throat as Anders shoved her behind himself.

“Aveline. One of the merchant bands reported scouts attacking from one of Corypheus' warbands. They managed to disable two war machines but a scout escaped in the third.”

“He was wounded, however, so we don't know the status on that ship,” Janna interjected.

Aveline looked at Janna, “And just who is this?”

“The merchant had bodyguards. One Merc and two Tinkers,” Anders intercepted the question, still shielding Hawke as he spoke. She cowered back, begging not to be noticed by her old friend.

Aveline wore dirty pieces of armor over top of a dusty linen shirt and trousers. Just as Bodahn's had been, her legs were wrapped tightly, keeping the pant legs from dangling around her feet. It made sense, if she were driving on patrol-- she didn't need the distraction of billowing cloth to slow her down. She moved to march past Anders, clearly aggravated with the information she just received.

“Anders, get me that merchant. We need to track the coordinates and send out a recon party,” She said, bristling, until her eye caught Hawke's face.

She faltered, clearly taken aback.

“No,” she whispered, “It can't be.”

“Aveline--” Anders tried to soothe her, but to no avail.

She stumbled back toward the wall behind her.

“How?”

Her voice was hollow, choked.

Anders tried again, “Aveline. She's not who you think she is...”

“You're right,” she breathed, “She can't be. Hawke died when we brought her body back to camp. You and Merrill worked through half the night just so we could say goodbye.”

Aveline's vision blurred with tears. Now wasn't the time to get emotional, however.

She gained her composure the best she could, “Right now we need to get recon on the plains. Go get the merchant, Anders. Now.”

She motioned to her guardsmen, sending a few as a search party, before joining them as they walked to the market square.

Bodahn approached them, stopping short as he noticed Aveline sizing him up.

“This is the merchant, then?”

Aveline towered over the dwarf sternly.

“Yes,” Janna stepped in, placing a hand gingerly on Bodahn's shoulder.

“We were traveling from the Orzammar camp,” Bodahn's words were jumbled with nerves.

Aveline sighed, “Orzammar's been patrolled by Black Citadel forces for months. Did you not realize they had a trade embargo against the colonies?”

Sandal approached a moment later, smiling, “Hello!”

Bodahn nodded, sweating, “We knew, Guard Captain. But my boy here, he fancies himself a mechanic... We just wanted to be able to help. We've been convoying between the colonies the past 3 cycles, and hadn't had issues with making pit-stops in Orzammar before.”

“Did you not anticipate that they may have been following you?” Aveline asked, frustration coloring her voice.

“Normally we're more careful, Guard Captain, I swear. This time there were complications. These three, they fell out of--”

Anders gave Bodahn a severe look, and his mouth snapped shut.

Aveline whirled on the three, “Fell out of what?”

Anders tried to be a peace-keeper, but Sandal simply blurted out, “the sky!”

Aveline chuckled bitterly.

“You expect me to believe they fell out of the sky, little mechanic?”

Evinn stepped forward, his palm outstretched to show the guard captain.

“As difficult as it is to believe...”

She stared at the glowing rift in his hand, gaping in surprise, “What is that?”

Evinn chuckled.

“Truth be told, we don't know what it is, but it brought us here. I can close rifts-- holes in the sky, with it.”

“And he says you fell out of the sky...” she continued skeptically, looking the group over.

“They did, Guard Captain, my boy and I saw them and can confirm.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“The Knight-Commander won't like this.”

Anders scowled.

“The Knight-Commander doesn't have to know,” he retorted sourly. Aveline looked at him begrudgingly.

“You have some explaining to do. How the hell do you fit into all this?!”

She grabbed the mage by his shirt front, wrenching him apart from the group.

Anders hands flew up in defense.

“You won't like my answer.”

* * *

 

the group gathered in the barracks beyond the iron gate, Aveline pacing in front of them as Anders, Evinn and Janna pieced together what was going on. Hawke sat silent, worried to speak for fear of sending Aveline over the edge. Anders had warned her how hard Aveline had taken her death, insisting that she not speak unless spoken to. In any other circumstance, she would have protested, but she could see the truth in what he said.

Finally, once their stories had been told, and Aveline had processed, she turned back to face Hawke.

“So you-- you are her.”

Grief tinged her voice as she spoke.

“I... I guess I am,” Hawke said quietly, “Do you believe that?”

“At the moment,” Aveline sighed, “I guess I have to. You've convinced me of stranger things in the past.”

She chuckled, looking Hawke up and down, “Besides, those clothes are just outlandish enough to support your claims.”

Hawke looked down at herself, “What's wrong with our clothes?”

Anders laughed, “They're not covered in a layer of dirt. They're also heavy and inconvenient.”

Aveline chuckled at the comment. After a moment, she asked, “Where will you go next?”

Evinn sighed, drawing the attention to himself. Janna and Hawke looked at him expectantly, surprised he might have an answer after all.

“Well, if this happened before with the Dorian from our Thedas, maybe the one from this Thedas is developing similar technology?”

Anders nodded, “That could work. If not, then at the very least you've got a jumping off point. Any idea of where he's headed?”

Evinn shook his head.

“In our world, he came to the Inquisition because we were fighting Corypheus... If he's not with what I assume is the Inquisition colony, then...”

Aveline interrupted, “Haven has requested a summit for the colonies. Think he could be there?”

Evinn smiled, “Yes! Haven was our first camp as the Inquisition. Guard Captain, you may have just given us our lead!”

They continued to talk for a few moments before Aveline led them back out of the barracks, and into the market once again.

Falling to the back of the group, she placed a hand gingerly on Hawke's shoulder.

“I know you're not the Hawke I knew, but... I'm glad to see you,” she stated quietly, drawing Hawke into her arms tightly. Anders directed the group to keep moving, a sad smile ghosting across his lips.

Hawke gave Aveline a gentle pat on the back, “I'm glad to see you too.”

Aveline looked at Anders, “You're supposed to be leaving for the summit tomorrow, are you not?”

Anders nodded.

“Merrill left two days ago, and Varric and Isabella rode out with Fenris before her.”

Hawke's heart jumped to her throat at the mention of his name.

“ _He_ hasn't heard about this yet, has he?” Aveline sighed as realization dawned on her.

Anders shook his head, looking over Hawke as he spoke, “I think you and I are the first ones to run into them.”

“Good,” Aveline said, “The last thing we need is him putting himself in harm's way for some sort of retribution. You know how he he took her death...”

Evinn interrupted, confused, “Who?”

Anders sighed.

“Varric.”

 


	5. Salt dunes and valleys

**Anders placed the pile of clothing on Janna's lap.**

"The others have changed, and you're the last one. now go," he said, a small smile creeping onto his face.

His old friend nodded, entering the hut alone.

With Aveline's suggestion they had dug through Anders' effects, finding clothing to change into for the journey ahead. The next closest colony was Denerim, and Janna was having trouble shaking it from her mind. She peeled her armor off piece by piece as she went through their circumstances in her mind.

They'd managed to avoid any of Hawke's companions, aside from Aveline, but seeing the way Aveline reacted sent Janna's mind racing. She pulled the linen shirt over her head, commanding herself to take a deep breath.

She'd been living on letters for how long now? It felt like ages. If there was a possibility for her to see Alistair here, even some other version she'd not met before--

She imagined if she died, he would not have taken it well. For his sake, she couldn't let him see her.

The armor, the heavy weaponry of the wardens, it all felt so familiar now.

She scooted into the trousers, pulling the cording tight. She replaced her bracers overtop, tightening down the straps at her ankles, knees, elbows and wrists. The cloth of the trousers rubbed awkwardly against her legs, and her shirt bulged out of the tight armor at the elbows. Everything felt foreign.

She threw a cloak over her shoulders and drew the hood over her head, obscuring her view.

It wasn't a helmet, but it would do for the time being.

She left the remaining armor piled distastefully on the chair, going back only for her Warden-issue breastplate. She hated that she wore it like a child carrying around a blanket, but it made her feel safe.

She strapped her warhammer to her back and headed back out front, where a familiar face caused her to stop dead in her tracks.

She looked down, making sure the hood obscured her face from view. She stepped gingerly to the side, coming upon Anders, whom she clapped on the shoulder before asking, "Anders, what is going on?"  
  
Anders looked confused as he turned to her.

"Our driver is here. He's taking us to the next colony. We're taking a warmachine-- its faster than Bodahn's cart, and we won't have to worry about fitting our group in."

She gritted her teeth, fingers tightening around his shoulder, "Yes, but why is our driver Zevran?"

Anders didn't follow.

"Zevran Arainai-- a member of the Antivan Crows. Tried and failed to assassinate me, and travelled with me for a time," she hissed, fear creeping into her voice.

"Relax-- keep your head down," Anders hushed her, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her back to the group.

Hawke and Evinn looked at her, confused, but made no effort to ask. Zevran was busy with a self introduction, flourishing to himself, before offering to take Hawke's hand.

"If you'll follow me this way," he grinned, motioning to the wide gates at the mouth of the sandstone walls. Anders and Janna trailed behind, Hawke flirting with Zevran as they went.

He pulled Evinn back beside them, whispering, "Don't let be him alone with the Warden Commander-- he may have known about her in this world-- its too early to tell."

Evinn nodded, slightly alarmed.

They came upon the war machine they'd be taking on the day-long trek-- a rusty, wide-set truck with a 5 seater cab, wall removed from the back so that they could jump into action if necessary.

"They said we've got two tinkers, right?" Zevran asked, turning to face them as he spoke. Janna continued to look down as Anders corrected, "Three. and one Merc."

"That makes things easy then," he grinned, motioning for them to load in, "The mercenary rides shotgun with me, and the tinkers ride in the jump seats. Sound fair?"

Anders made to protest, but the other three, unaware of what this might mean, agreed. He wanted to scream internally, holding it in as he helped load their packs into the truck between the jump seats.

"Just don't talk," he whispered in an aside to Janna, opening the door of the machine for her to climb up inside.

She nodded, sitting down and letting the hammer lay overtop their packs behind them.

Anders helped the other two strap into the truck, and Zevran climbed in as the engine roared to life.

"We've got enough fuel to get us there, but one of you will need to navigate," He quipped, closing the door with a heavy thump.

The three adventurers tried not to look nervous, Janna unable to resist watching Zevran clip himself into the rig, moving it into gear and setting them into motion.

Anders, over the roar of the engine yelled, "I'll navigate. I can see best, and I can scout when we need to."

Zevran nodded, lips pursed. He hummed a tune to himself as he drove, clearly content with how things were playing out. To him this was just a simple taxi-ing job-- they had paid him a week's worth of fuel and food for the lift, and he felt like a regular general with the sheer fighting power their team was equipped with.

"Where are you headed?" he asked to no one in particular.

Evinn answered, yelling slightly too loud over the sound of the rig in action, "We're going to Haven. Denerim is a pitstop along the way!"

"That's kind of what I figured," Zevran grinned, casting an eye over the silent mercenary beside him, "Lot of groups taxi-ing out that direction."

When she gave no reply, he sighed.

"You're the quietest mercenary I've ever met," he chuckled, reaching to touch her shoulder playfully.

Janna shrunk back into herself, trying not to take the bait.

"Yeah, she doesn't really talk much," Anders said, laughing off the comment for her.

Zevran shrugged, concentrating back on the dunes ahead of them.

They drove for hours, Evinn watching as the sun made heat pools in the valleys of the dunes. Hawke chatted casually with Zevran, bantering until Anders shot her an incredulous look, to which she responded, "Anders, you know I have a thing for smarmy rogues," and gave Zevran a little wink.

He laughed at the comment, clearly enjoying the show.

Janna stayed quiet, knees pulled up tightly to her chest, dozing in and out of sleep. Their first long day was drawing to a close, but just how many more would there be? Would they be able to get back? Who could say.

She smiled to herself, _at least Zevran is the same as he always was_.

  
As the sun began to sink in the distance, they doled out their rations for the day. Evinn munched quietly, putting a hand on Janna's shoulder to wake her.

Without thinking, a sleepy moan of, "Thanks," escaped her as she came to, reaching to take her food from Anders.

She froze, eyes darting to the rogue. Wheels were turning in his mind, she could tell.

The cab grew incredibly tense as everyone ate in silence. Zevran after a moment, spoke carefully.

"you seem... familiar. Are you sure we haven't worked together before?"

Feeling like she couldn't stay silent any longer, she answered quietly.

"I don't think so..."

"Your mannerisms... They feel... familiar," he tried again, a switch flipping in his brain. Softly, he reached out and placed a hand on the hood at the back of her head. Anders attempted to interject, but a gentle, "May I?" cut through his swift reply.

Janna's heart beat in her throat as she nodded, suddenly very nervous.

He pulled back gingerly, and the hood fell to reveal her dark hair cropped to her chin.

"Janna! I knew it was you!" he laughed musically.

"Zevran?" she tried weakly.

"I never forget a face," he chuckled, eyes still on the road, "truth be told though, after your Warden warband friends kicked me out I tried to stay in contact, but somewhere on the grapevine the message must have gotten jumbled. They said you died!"

She wanted to laugh with relief, but all she could focus on was the mention of her 'warden warband friends'.

"Here I am," she managed to say, chuckling just slightly.

"So why all the secrecy?" Zevran asked, fingers flexing around the steering wheel, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Anders interjected, "Time is of the essence. Denerim can't know she's coming."

Zevran nodded, "I see. Well have no fear, I won't be telling anyone about this encounter, aside from the nice payments I recieved."

  
As the night progressed, he coaxed Janna into speaking more freely, and she began to remember why she'd traveled with him in the first place.

He hooked an arm around her shoulder fondly.

"I have missed this," he sighed sadly.

She agreed.

"What happened between you two?" Evinn asked.

Zevran chuckled, "I made a mistake. Sold out the Wardens to my previous employers. Gave out company secrets. You really almost killed me that time."

Janna nodded, "You forced my hand! What was I supposed to do?"

He laughed.

"Not try to kill me, that's what."

"Next time don't sell me out, then. Did you learn your lesson at least?"

Zevran nodded quietly.

"Believe it or not, crossing you is the thing that's haunted me most. I've been trying for cycles to make it right."

The cab fell silent as the truck continued to roll over the dunes.

Anders suggested they sleep in shifts, to which Janna and Evinn obliged. As the two closed their eyes, Hawke joined Anders in standing behind the cab, looking out over the horizon.

"Watch for any lights," he cautioned.

She nodded, looking out to the right. Nothing to be seen except the sand giving way to dunes of salt in the distance.

"Do you figure we're crossing an old sea?" She asked quietly.

Anders shook his head.

"This place isn't like our Thedas. It uses the same names, sure, but the space between colonies is less significant. You remember your first trip, from Ostagar to Kirkwall-- it took a lot longer than this, didn't it?"

She nodded, considering.

"Still..."

He laughed, putting a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Ah, but how the world's been dull without you around," he grinned.

Hawke winked, "Careful, Flatterer,"

Even after all this time, she couldn't forget how much she identified with Anders. She had felt so betrayed when he had abused her good nature, rigging the chantry with drakestone under false pretenses. It had taken her a long time to sort out her feelings, and the only reason she'd been able to do so was because of the safe distance letters provided her. Only Varric knew how she had been coping-- what she'd been going through.

She sighed. This was dangerous territory that she wasn't drunk enough to breach.

They scanned the horizon again intently, and when nothing of interest passed, they spent the remainder of their watch conversing quietly and catching up.

Zevran stopped the rig in the early hours of the morning, having Hawke and Anders switch with Janna and Evinn. The two mages seemed to fall asleep quickly, Hawke's head tucked close into the crook of Anders' neck.

Janna chuckled, inspecting the two from the back of the rig.

"Do you wager there's a history there?" she asked, motioning to the two.

Evinn shook his head, "Not to my knowledge..."

"Just friends, thanks," Anders said, a bit too loudly, causing Hawke to stir beside him.

Janna chuckled to herself, "Thanks for the clarification. Try not to sound so defeated about it."

A few hours later, as the moon hung low and the sun threatened to crest, Evinn caught sight of pinprick sized headlights in the distance. He yelled, rousing the sleeping mages, "Zevran, we've got headlights-- far away, but they're there and they're moving fast."

Zevran looked in the direction Evinn indicated, growing slightly tense. He flickered their headlights in a set pattern, holding his breath for a reply.

Several long moments passed before the headlights in the distance flickered in return.

Zevran's grip on the steering wheel relaxed.

"False alarm," he grinned, "Just a Warden. Or a clever Black Citadel warmachine that now knows we're coming."

Evinn seemed confused, "And that idea doesn't bother you?"

Zevran laughed.

"They know we're coming?" he shrugged, as if that made it better.

 

Janna instinctively tugged her hood back over her head. _A Warden warmachine, huh._

Morning broke as they descended into a valley, Denerim swimming into view.

"A sight for sore eyes, I'd imagine," Zevran called, smiling though his warden friend couldn't see.

Janna's fingers tightened against the roof of the cab as warmachines sped past on either side. To her left, a driver with a bright braided beard beneath dusty goggles caught her eye. A familiar brunette perched on top of the vehicle, a bow strung over one shoulder. She didn't dare look to the right.

She ducked below quickly, tugging Anders'shoulders urgently, "Switch with me-- Switch with me!"

Groggily he obliged, scooting awkwardly to the side as she climbed over his seat and back to the front, nudging Zevran slightly as she moved.

"Careful," he couldn't help but laugh as she settled down in the seat beside him, and resumed nervously clutching her cloak tightly around her ears.

Anders gave a polite nod and smile to Nathaniel Howe as he passed. His face lit up in recognition, and Anders noted him giving Oghren a nudge to look up.

He hoped it wasn't a mistake to reveal himself so early on.

Zevran hummed another happy tune as the sun rose high overhead, filling the cab with dry heat. Hawke yawned and stretched, looking out at the world, bleary-eyed.

She saw the two war-machines beside them, perking up quickly.

"Janna, get down," She said, eyes flashing to the front seat, before noticing Janna was already hunkered low and balled up tightly on herself.

"Good of you to join us, Hawke," Janna muttered irritably.

"Don't look out the window," Hawke murmered, "Until I give you the go-ahead."

Anders shot her a disapproving look from behind the cab, and she laughed with a shrug, "She's bound to be curious, at least let her look when its safe."

He supposed she was right, though he didn't approve of the idea.

Evinn watched as Alistair drove past on the right, dust trailing behind him as he sped ahead. Perched atop his warmachine was a woman with blonde hair, tied tightly back in a bun. She hovered over the vehicle in an almost cat-like way, eyeing the rig suspiciously.

He continued to look on as Alistair took the lead, Oghren and Nathaniel falling in behind Zevran, the three vehicles speeding deeper into the valley as the Colony grew closer.

At last, in the morning heat, they were at the gates of the Denerim colony. Not nearly as fortified as the sandstone walls of Kirkwall, the city was reinforced with sand-worn stone and wood. The walls were rudimentary, but high enough to be effective in a fight, as Evinn was sure had been tested countless times. Simple griffins were grafitied in various areas around the gates in the standard rearing pattern of the Grey Wardens. Driving through the gate, the warmachines pulled into a covered port, their passengers hopping out to survey the rig they'd escorted in.

Anders jumped out the back of the vehicle, helping unload Hawke and Janna as Evinn gathered some of their belongings.

"Stay behind me and don't say a word," He whispered severely to Janna.

Zevran climbed out last, hands raised in an offering of peace as light haired warden leader looked him up and down.

"What are you doing here? I thought we made it perfectly clear last time, that you're not welcome in Denerim."

Zevran laughed off the question, "What can I say? I've been known to do foolhardy things when the coin's good enough."

The familiar voice made Janna's heart ache. She wanted to look up, and see her love, but she stayed herself, heeding Anders' warning. They had gotten a free pass with Zevran, and she couldn't risk it a second time.

"You remember Anders," Zevran continued, motioning to the group beside him, "And maybe Hawke? They're traveling to Haven, for the summit."

Anders waved quietly to the group. Velanna cast him a dirty look, though the others seemed happy enough to see him.

Alistair, however, remained skeptical. He never had trusted Zevran, and the fact that his suspicions had previously proven accurate did nothing to help their current situation.

"Hawke, huh?" He asked, stepping forward, "We must have gotten some bad intel a while back... There were some reports that you-- didn't make it,"

His words trailed into hollowness, before he stumbled and caught himself, "I'm glad to see you're alive, friend."

She smiled, giving him a firm nod and stepping forward to clasp his hand firmly.

"It's good to see you too, Alistair," she grinned, "It's been a long time. How's Carver been?"

Alistair chuckled, "Well. He's been patrolling the outer edges... Should be back sometime tomorrow night, if you're staying that long."

He relaxed slightly, running a hand through his hair.

"So who are the other two?"

"Another tinker," Anders said, motioning to Evinn, who waved with a bandaged hand, "And a mercenary."

Janna looked up as sneakily as she could, and caught sight of her lover wiping the sweat off the back of his neck with a loose cloth. Her eyes planted firmly on the ground, heart racing as he appraised her.

"My name's Evinn, sir. It's a pleasure," the other mage reported, stepping forward and giving Alistair a firm clasp on the forearm. He accepted it gracefully.

"And who is the broody one?" He asked, shrugging in Janna's direction.

She continued to look at the ground, knowing she looked like a fool.

"Didn't catch her name," Anders said with a shrug, "She doesn't talk much."

Alistair seemed unconvinced, taking a step closer to her. Anders walked forward as well, trying to place himself between the two of them.

"What's your rank, Merc?" He asked, his face the picture of seriousness.

she willed herself to speak in any tone but her own, her voice coming out so low and soft it was barely audible, "Don't have one, sir."

"Amazing, she can speak!" Anders sighed, putting a hand on Alistair's shoulder in an attempt to turn him around, "Truly astounding. But we can't stay here long. We need to refuel, get some supplies and move on to Haven."

Alistair was distracted enough by the lithe mage to allow himself to be turned around. The others shouldered their packs and turned to follow, and Zevran turned to face Janna one last time.

"I'm taking off now. You'll be better trusted without me here," He grinned, giving her shoulder a firm squeeze.

She nodded, drawing him into a tight hug.

"Thanks. It's been great to see you, Zevran," She whispered softly in his ear.

His hand trailed the back of her head softly. As they pulled apart, his worn glove caught on her hood, and brought it down beyond her hairline.


	6. Sweat and Tears

**A terrified squeak passed Janna's lips** as her hood fell to her shoulders. Her hands flew to her mouth, but it was too late-- the Wardens had spun around at the noise, and things began to move in slow motion.

"No,"

Disbelief was suspended in Alistair's voice as realization dawned on him.

"I-- I watched you die. You bled to death in my arms, this can't be--"

He collapsed to his knees, visibly shaking.

  
He'd always known when they took on the mission that chances of them both surviving were incredibly slim.

With them both acting as drivers, it had been their job to protect the tinkers and archers during the turf war. In a last act of defiance she'd begged Morrigan to jump ship to Alistair's warmachine, where Leliana and Morrigan kept the Arch Demon Urthemiel at bay with long range warfare. Janna had crashed her car into the Arch Demon, successfully stopping it for good, but as it went down in flames, she was hurled from the vehicle. Alistair had forced his car to a screeching halt, jumping ship in time to gather her close in her final moments.

He still had nightmares about that day.

"Alistair--" Janna's voice splintered as she watched him break down.

Suddenly weapons were drawn and turned on their party, corralling them back into one another. Janna looked behind to see even Zevran looking between them in horror, blades bared against her.

Alistair looked up at her from the dust, grief quickly dissolving to anger. he managed to force the words, "Grab them," through his gritted teeth as he forced himself to his feet.

Anders and Evinn tossed their staffs to the ground, beckoning to Hawke to do the same. Janna felt a boot push suddenly into the back of her knees, forcing her to the ground. Her hammer was wrestled from her, and her hands were quickly wrestled back, where a strip of linen served to bind her arms tightly behind her.

"No-- Please, Alistair, listen to me--" she began to speak urgently, when his eyes snapped back to her, getting quickly to his feet. He rounded on her, face just inches from her own, seething rage etched into his features.

"How dare you impersonate her. Get them out of my sight."

* * *

 

  
They were forced into a cramped, dark room together, where a familiar hornless Qunari and dwarven rogue stood watch.

"Sten-- Sigrun! Please--" Janna continued to beg as they walked past. Sigrun's face betrayed a mixture of horror and surprise.

Sten simply pushed past her, "Don't talk."

He motioned for Sigrun to leave with him, who commentented, "She-- she's supposed to be dead, isn't she?" as they walked out and shut the door, locking it with a heavy click.

In the darkness, Janna was surprised to hear Zevran speak.

"Who are you, really? What is going on?"

Janna sighed.

"You wouldn't believe me if I tried to explain."

Evinn unwound the bandage from his hand, filling the room with a dim green glow.

"This might help it make more sense though," he said guiltily, fumbling around the small room for some sort of seating. Finding a bench, he collapsed onto it heavily.

Zevran's face in the green glow was the picture of surprise, "... And what is that?"

Evinn shook his head.

"Don't know. But we think it brought us out of our world. You see, we're not... from here."

Janna managed a dry chuckle, "I hadn't met these two in before in my life. But here we are. And Hawke and I share a common friend in Anders, so we--"

Zevran interrupted, "This... thing, brought you here? How?"

Evinn shrugged, "It ripped a hole in the Fade..."

"The Sky," Anders corrected for Zevran's sake, "Opened up and spit them out in a dune outside the Kirkwall Colony."

"And they somehow knew you... and who I was?" He asked skeptically, "Not to mention that you look exactly like people we've known here for years, who have all died?"

Anders nodded, "Not the most practical story, but what can we say? It's the truth as we know it."

Zevran shook his head.

"No, that's too much. This is crazy. There has to be some other explanation."

Evinn curled his fingers for a moment, flexing his hand in contemplation, before he anchored it out in front of himself. Concentrating, he attempted to open a rift in the room to demonstrate.

The air cracked in reply, his hand blazing bright for a moment, but no rift appeared. Evinn groaned at the effort, giving up and visibly deflating.

"Well that was... Odd," Zevran said quietly.

"The Veil is too thin here," Anders said reproachfully, giving Evinn a disapproving glance, "If there were an artifact around, he may be able to demonstrate with a bit more ease."

Suddenly the heavy lock was undone with a loud click. The door swang open on its hinges, harsh sunlight suddenly obscuring their vision.

"He will speak with you now," Sten's voice came gruffly as he pushed into the room, grabbing Janna's still bound arms and pushing her out of the room, "alone."

"Wait-- Sten! Stop!" she protested, struggling slightly. He ignored her cries however, and kept moving until she was clear of the door, which Sigrun shut and locked tightly behind them once again.

The group exchanged nervous glances as their eyes adjusted once again to the darkness settling around them.

* * *

 

Janna was pushed and prodded through the colony as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight of the afternoon. Familiar faces swam in and out of focus, until she was brought to another heavy door. It opened to reveal a sparsely furnished but not uncomfortable room, and in it sat the man who'd always managed to set her heart racing.

Alistair stared at her grimly, unable to contain his discomfort.

"Thank you, Sten," he replied curtly, pulling a worn wooden bench slightly away from the furthest wall. Sten gave her one final push into the room before leaving without a word.

He motioned to the wooden bench, and she sat quietly, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

The silence in the room was oppressive as he continued to look at her harshly.

Finally he spoke.

"You have some nerve, coming here -- like this," he motioned to her as a whole. She didn't dare look as he towered over her.

"So, tell me." he continued, ignoring her non-reply.

When he didn't complete the thought, she finally glanced up at him. His brow was furrowed and he still seemed irate.

"Tell you what?" she whispered. she pleaded.

"Anything! Why do you look like her-- sound like her? Who are you?!" He roared.  
  
"Alistair," Her eyes welled with tears as she spoke, "It's me. I'm Janna."

"That's not possible. Janna died five cycles ago-- out in that desert, in my arms. If you think you can just waltz in here, and--" his voice broke, and his hands cradled his head. He tore them away, and looked angrily at her once again.

"So I'll ask you nicely, once more," he said through gritted teeth as he tried to gain composure, "Who are you, and what are you doing in Denerim?"

Tears now coursed down her face as she stared at him, silently meeting his gaze for the first time since she'd arrived.

"You want to know who I am," She seethed, at her wit's end, "Fine. I'll start from the very beginning. Sit down, Alistair, its going to be a long tale."

She stood up, rounding on him and struggling slightly against her bonds, breath hissing from her when she pulled too hard and the linen strap dug painfully into her wrists.

"My name is Janna Cousland. Janna. Cousland. Okay?" she reiterated angrily.

"And no, I'm not from here, but I do know you. I know everyone in this colony. I come from a mirror of this world-- a place called Ferelden."

Alistair's scowl didn't move, though an eyebrow quirked with this reveal.

Janna continued, "My father was named Bryce Cousland. He was Teryn of Highever, until he was murdered by a family friend-- Nathaniel Howe's father, Rendon. The only reason I survived is because a Grey Warden named Duncan happened to be visiting my home while looking for recruits. He saved me and I joined the Wardens, where I met you. The king of Ferelden, your brother Cailan, was killed when an outbreak of darkspawn attacked the city of Ostagar, and his advisor Loghain pulled the troops out and cut his losses, rather than trying to save the city."

Alistair's demeanor had started to change. He grabbed a chair from the wall, scooting it closer to her, if only slightly, his eyes transfixed on her silently. His brows still knit together tightly, furrowing as he processed her story, but she didn't stop explaining.

"We almost died that night, if not for Morrigan. She and her mother pulled us out of the wreckage of a tower we lit a signal fire in, and in return we took Morrigan with us. We went to a town called Lothering next, where we met Leliana and Sten, and we went to Redcliffe after that, where we saved your uncle's son Connor from a demon. Sometime in there you gave me a rose, the first real moment I thought I might..."

"Might what?" Alistair asked, leaning toward her slightly.

"Might have... fallen for you," she said, tears continuing to fall angrily down her cheeks.

Alistair sat back, chuckling cruelly to himself, "Well you've definitely done your research-- they parallel quite well, don't they."

Janna wanted to scream, "They parallel because they're true-- Alistair, I know everything about you! You love cheeses, you know a surprising amount about magic for one who doesn't practice it, and you had sex with Morrigan the night before we fought the Arch Demon!"

His eyes widened as he got to his feet angrily, "How do you know about that?! The only ones who should know that are Morrigan, Me and--"

"And me, because I'm the one who suggested it to you."

She sighed, looking to the floor, "Don't you see?"

He shook his head in disbelief, "Then how, how did you get here? This is impossible! You're dead--"

She bit her lip, "The me who lived here is dead. That much we both know is true... Alistair, I-- I don't know how I got here... There was a flash of green, some floating rocks, and then I fell and hit the ground. When I came to, I was laying in the sand between Hawke and the Inquisitor. That being said, the Inquisitor thinks he may be the cause of it all. his lover had been studying time-travel or some such magic, and he'd taken a similar trip in the past."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Do you believe me now?" Janna asked, her heart jumping as she bit back more tears.

Alistair turned away, "I don't know what I believe."

He started walking toward the door, "Stay here and don't move."

Janna panicked, "No, Alistair, wait-- talk to Evinn, get him close to an artifact-- the one's used for healing spells, have him show you that he can open a rift! Then you'll know, I'm telling you the truth. Don't leave me here, please!"

He closed the door, and as he locked it, he heard her beginning to sob from the other side.

A shudder ran through him as he leaned against the heavy door, a cold sweat running down his neck despite the heat of the day.

Could she be telling the truth? There was no way that she was Janna... Was she?


	7. Demons and Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((sorry this chapter seems shorter than the rest-- I promise longer and more intricate chapters in the future! for now, I hope you enjoy!))

**Alistair opened the door to the dark room after calming himself down.** If she said this was a way to be sure, then he may as well hear her out.

The captives threw their hands up, shielding their eyes as he scanned the room, now noting the green glow eminating from Evinn's right hand.

"Well that's.... Magical," he sighed to himself, "Your name is Evinn, is it not?"

When Evinn nodded, Alistair rounded on him, prodding him to his feet.

" _She_ told me to bring you close to an artifact. Said you can make something called a rift?"

"I can try," Evinn said cautiously, "But if I go with you, you'll want people who know how to deal with rifts to come with us. There's no telling what could come out of one if we open it here."

Alistair seemed unconvinced, "Wouldn't more people coming out of it help support your claims?"

Evinn sighed, "Not if the things coming out are demons."

Alistair stifled a chuckle, "Demons. Really. There's no such thing. Mutants, yes definitely. Demons? I highly doubt that."

Evinn looked to Anders for support. Anders sighed.

"Let us come with you. You used to know me, and Hawke. Janna too. Do you really think we'd lie to you?"

"Well, no, but to be fair I hardly know either of you. <You> were more of a friend to Janna than me, and Hawke only met me through you to have her brother join up."

Hawke rolled her eyes. _Why was it taking so long to get through to him?_

"Alistair," she sighed, "You're already speaking to us as if you believe. So let me give you my word on this, and If we're not telling the truth, and he can't do this, then you can do whatever you want with us. Especially Zevran-- I know you've been holding a grudge against him for cycles now,"

Zevran gaped at her, his face flashing angrily.

"But if we're telling the truth, and he can do this, then you need to let us go. So do what you need to do, but know if he opens that hole and you don't have the backup you need, then this whole colony is going down in flames."

She fumbled over her words, "or lightning, or ice... really it'd just be going down in general--"

Zevran was outraged, sputtering, "I'm FROM here! I just drove them here-- I took the job because the pay was good! I didn't know Janna was dead-- I thought she was just in hiding! Let me go!"

"Maybe if I'm lucky demons will shoot out and get _all_ of you out of my hair...." Alistair grumbled, before slipping an aside to himself, "Was that too much? That may have been too much." as he let them all file out of the cramped room.

* * *

 

Alistair shepherded the group to a shabbier looking building on the outskirts of the colony walls. A plaque showed Wynne's name, and Anders ran a hand over it passively as they entered the room. He'd always liked the old bat, despite her stern demeanor and constant chastising. Perhaps he didn't have enough time with her to form any different opinion. Zevran and Alistair eyed the plaque as well, falling reverently silent.

Alistair chuckled, "Sometimes I miss her too. She was a tough old thing, eh Anders?"

"To be sure," Anders smiled.

The group filed in to the large, open room lined with simple worn cots. the Artifact sat on the far end, tangible magical energy humming in the air lightly for the three mages.

Alistair was silent as Evinn ducked down beside the artifact, watching with grim satisfaction when his hand began glowing far more intensely.

"I'm going to start," he announced, his voice edged with nerves.

Alistair nodded, unsure of how to quite ready himself for what was about to unfold. Absentmindedly he scanned the room for Zevran, whom he saw digging through a pile of inconspicuous gear, pulling out two daggers and testing their weight. Alistair sighed to himself, of course Zevran would want to arm himself if he had the ability. He eyed the walls himself, distractedly, before noting an ornamental pike on a hook over the door. He reached for it quietly, slinging it over his shoulders as he turned back to face the others.

Evinn was psyching himself up for something big, that much was clear. He stood with his palm outstretched, his other hand anchoring the glowing green in front of him as the air began to visibly distort. Sounds of the veil tearing were becoming more evident as the seconds ticked on, and the others watched in tense silence as a crystalline tear appeared before them, crackling and hissing ominously.

"I don't believe it."

Alistair was stunned as shapes began to move behind the tear in the veil, something living and breathing pressing back toward them.

"Steady, Evinn," Hawke called warningly, watching as he began to falter just slightly.

"I can't hold it much longer," Evinn huffed shakily.

"Let it go then, we have your back," Anders called, motioning to Hawke to begin whatever spell she had in mind. They did not have staffs, but that hadn't stopped them before.

Evinn released the bond, and a thundering crack reverberated around them. Arms extended through the rift as a Rage Demon emerged, followed shortly after by two Shades. Alistair and Zevran stood dumbstruck for a moment, unsure of quite how to process what they were seeing. Meanwhile, the three mages went to quick work with readying shields, enveloping everyone in their sight with a balmy green light.

The Shades rounded on the mages, rearing tall and threateningly. Anders was the first to strike, throwing a cone of fire that warded them off temporarily.

Evinn grew bold, digging for the hilt he'd crafted so long ago. He found it concealed in his boot, and pulling it out, brandished it toward the shade in front of him. Throwing his arm to his side, he conjured the gift Knight Enchanters were known for; the magic blade glittered in the dim light of the room dangerously. In a calculated movement, Evinn rammed the sword through the Shade to the hilt. Alistair watched on, bewildered as the thing collapsed heavily forward, and particles of its body materialized back into the rift before them.

"Focus!" Hawke called out irritably, both her arms raised in the effort of conjuring a blizzard that was currently holding the rage demon still. Alistair scanned the room quietly-- one Shade was gone for good, but the other was still giving Anders some difficulty. Seems he, at least, was out of practice. Meanwhile, Evinn turned his attention to backing Hawke up, throwing more balmy energy around her in a green glow.

Alistair saw his moment as the Shade by Anders made to turn around. Running forward as quickly as he could, he squared the Shade in his sights and firmed his grip on the pike, driving it hard into the Shade's back. It quickly dissipated as well, with a horrifying screech, revealing a startled Anders' just beyond him.

"I guess Oghren didn't used to call me <little pike twirler> without reason," he sighed with a slight chuckle.

The two of them whirled around to find the Rage Demon being quickly dispatched. Evinn and Hawke were working in tandem, keeping it occupied as it turned its attention between them, its' movements growing sloppy in an attempt to keep up. Alistair moved in to attack it from behind, and Anders came to flank, and together they brought the demon down easily.

The four of them stood in silence, breathing heavy. Alistair wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation-- never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined they'd be telling the truth. A sane person wouldn't believe even after this evidence, would they?

He supposed he wasn't quite sane, though. He hadn't felt sane in a long time.

Suddenly something felt off. Zevran hadn't been pulling his weight.

Alistair looked around.

"Where the hell is Zevran?"

* * *

 

Janna felt hopeless, if she was honest. There was no way anyone here would believe her-- this was worse than when she and Alistair had taken on the Darkspawn. She hadn't felt alone then-- merely inconvenienced by fate. She sniffled silently to herself. Try as hard as she could, the tears wouldn't go away. She felt so stupid-- she was the Hero of Ferelden, and she was supposed to be strong.

A soft voice in the darkness made her breath catch in her throat.

"Well, your friends weren't lying when they talked about demons coming out of a hole in the sky. If I imagined what demons looked like, that's pretty much it."

Zevran stepped out of a particularly shadowed corner and closed the distance between them. Grabbing a dagger from its' casing behind his back, he quickly cut the bindings on her wrists, allowing her to stretch them for the first time in hours. A hiss of breath escaped as she flexed with relief.

"Zevran, what are you doing here? They're not going to appreciate you running out on them when they figure out what happened," She said, nerves tinging her tone.

"I had to say goodbye, didn't I?" He smirked, placing a hand on her shoulder, "For real this time."

She looped him in a tight hug.

"I know I did some terrible things the last time we met-- in apparently your world as well as mine," he said, stumbling slightly over his words, "And I wanted to apologize. Maybe this is the one way I can make amends for it. I still find it hard to believe, but..."

She nodded, releasing him, "There's no way this would be easy to believe. Thank you for believing me nonetheless."

Zevran's gaze turned serious.

"Janna, come with me. I don't know what <that warden> is planning when he gets back here, but if I took you with me, at least we'd have a rig, and enough supplies to try and escape--"

Janna gave him a severe look.

"Zevran, there are at least two other people trying to get home the same way as I am-- we have the basis of a plan, and I can't abandon them in this! Besides-- I can't do that to-- to him..."

"You love him, then..."

Zevran's words were sad, but resolute, as he understood. Janna processed, nodding.

"Here or there, he's the same person, Zev. Just as you are. I can't just up and leave without closure."

He nodded.

"I guess it was too much to hope otherwise," he chuckled, turning to go.

"Zevran. Thank you."

"No need to thank me," he said, disappearing into the shadows.

the room was calm and quiet as Janna sat in silence once again.


	8. Camp Fire Stories

**Alistair stood outside the room** he'd left Janna in, quietly preparing himself.

He knew it wouldn't be easy to confront her now, but it had to be done. After all, they needed to form a plan of action, and time was of the essence. The summit was set for a few days from now, and with their unfamiliarity of the terrain, they needed all the time they had.

Even so, Alistair found his heart sinking; he couldn't imagine Janna appearing back in his life so suddenly only to disappear into the void once again.

He found Janna staring blankly at the shadowed corner, still bleary eyed and tear stained from the distress of their earlier conversation. She sat with her hands clasped quietly in front of her, wrists red and raw from the bindings. She didn't acknowledge his presence.

Part of him wanted to hold her close-- he had to control himself to stop from simply shouting that in all the craziness that happened, he believed her now. The most he could do, however, in this moment of discomfort, was to place a hand awkwardly on her shoulder.

"Janna..."

Unable to ignore the physical motion, she finally looked up at him, anger creeping onto her face.

"What. Here to ask more questions?"

He shook his head.

"Please believe me when I say that my initial reaction was to protect everything we built together... I didn't mean to hurt you, or be distrusting, or--"

She knew he was right. She just wished the truth didn't hurt so much.

He lost his words momentarily, arm flapping helplessly to his side.

"Just to clarify, are you saying you believe me now?" She asked incredulously. Dry-mouthed, he nodded.

"Where are my friends, Alistair?"

He cleared his throat, "They're touring the camp. They wanted to know what we have as far as provisions go. They planned on spending the night in Denerim before charting a course for Haven... Zevran stole his rig from under our noses-- he's already gone..." His eyes trailed the linen strap on the floor. Perhaps she already knew this.

"We have to find a group willing to take you."

Janna shook her head after a moment, "No, we can't ask you to send wardens out with us. It's supposedly dangerous, right? I can't ask you to put yours in the line of fire for a couple--"

Alistair clasped her hands in a moment of fire, "You're not going out there alone-- not when you'd be dead on your feet if you were ambushed! I'm sure that was the guard captain's intent in hiring on Zevran to be your taxi the first time around!"

Janna recoiled slightly at his touch, massaging her wrists while casting him a dirty look, "So teach me to drive a rig and we won't need the backup. We've already proven we can fight in close-range combat, so why not let us learn?"

He scoffed at this, "What, you'll learn the intricacies of driving a warmachine in one night? That's ludicrous."

Janna's furrowed brow betrayed her disapproval, "And what do you suggest instead?"

"I'll talk to Anora tonight about taking a few of the griffons out-- drivers like Teagan, Carver, Oghren and I should have no trouble taxi-ing out to Haven. It isn't too long a drive, especially with us."

Janna went silent, contemplating.

"Let me at least try to do this for you," He begged, "Please."

He glanced at her like a wounded mabari-- a look he'd used on her in the past, no doubt.

She sighed, "Fine," and began to get up from her seat to push past him toward the door. As her hand hand brushed him in an attempt to push him out of the way, his broad hand caught her elbow, holding her in place for just a moment. He took her hand as gently as he could manage, looking sadly at the raw spots on her wrist.

"Janna... I'm sorry I did this to you. I won't forgive myself."

She stared back at him, sadly.

"I'm afraid I'm having a hard time doing so as well," She said quietly.

Without another word, she pushed past him, exiting the cool room into the heat of the quickly ending day. He kicked himself for not believing her the first time. This would be a hard night for him, to be sure.

* * *

 

Anora and Alistair spoke in hushed whispers on the farthest end of the tented mess hall in the cool evening. Large fires were interspersed around the grand tent, 

Wardens flocking between them, passing food and drink like a busy, jostling family.

Oghren was the first to approach the band of travelers, giving Janna a firm look up and down decisively.

"Sorry you got the business end of my boot," he said gruffly, after a moment, "Alistair explained, something about a big green rip in the air, that spat out mutant-y things, which somehow proves you're our old commander."

When Janna nodded stiffly, he cracked a grin, swigging hard on the ale clasped in one hand, "Good to have you back for the time being then, Cousland. Always liked having you around."

He turned, motioning to some of the others to join them, "Sigrun! Sten! Nathaniel-- Get your skinny ass over here and say hello to our old pal, Commander."

Janna motioned for the others to come over, and Hawke and Evinn took turns making introductions; Evinn with his usual brand of quiet sweetness, and Hawke with her usual lack of grace. Anders couldn't help but grin; he never thought he'd see Hawke or Janna again, but seeing them together, even in this place, warmed his hardened heart. He could feel Justice even lifting his spirits, if only slightly. Nathaniel clapped a hand on Anders' shoulder warmly-- he'd missed the mage and was glad for the company at the moment.

Meanwhile, from across the tent Alistair's eyes wouldn't stop wandering during his conversation with Anora, much to her chagrin. He kept noticing the way Janna's silhouette against the fire and the night sky was so familiar-- down to the way she breathed, the way she tucked her hair behind her ears, the way she laughed and prodded at Oghren, and playfully shoved Sten. Anora finally gave him a scornful look, which he didn't see, until her voice cut through the thick fog of his thoughts, "If you're not taking this seriously, then I suggest we break for the evening, Warden."

He peeled his gaze away from Janna to look forlornly at the head of the colony, her blonde hair collected in twin buns at the nape of her neck, just above the collar of her black jacket.

"Will you at least consider what I'm asking? If not for the better of the colony, then, at least for me-- a personal favor, even! I feel like we've been dancing around the subject all night-- you won't give me an answer!"

She looked at him, unwavering.

"I still don't know that we can trust them-- Alistair, that is a woman you watched die. We burnt the body on a funeral pire-- everyone in camp knows she's dead, and has been for a while. How you can be so quick to trust is beyond me. I know your troops trust you well enough to go along with it, but, for the sake of Denerim we must be diplomatic about this."

Frustrated, Alistair ran a hand through his hair, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Anora, Haven needs an established Warden presence if we want to band against the Black City Embargo. This is a chance for us to rally that presence."

Anora was clearly angry at his insinuation, "Alistair, we have a presence established. We already sent Morrigan and Dagna, not to mention that Leliana and Cullen have been there since the Colony's founding. You need to face the facts, you are being led astray. I will not allow you to weaken Denerim's defenses on a fanciful trap. Frankly, I'm against them even taking refuge here for the night, Alistair. You clearly are allowing that to happen though, so it's on your head if we have any trouble. We won't be sticking our necks out any further than this."

True surprise and a hint of fear flashed on Alistair's features, "But--"

"You have my answer, Alistair. I forbid it."

With that, she turned and stepped away, off into the darkness and back to her tent.

He wanted to scream, tear his hair out, hit something. Instead, he growled, kicked at the sand and showering the fire pit, which flickered angrily in reply. He stomped toward the congregated group, grabbing at food and drink angrily as he passed. He ascended on them like a frustrated cloud, watching them laugh and joke, until they noticed his somber presence.

"Something the matter?" Nathaniel asked, turning toward his superior.

Alistair grumbled through a bite of meat, "Anora's forbidden us from convoying out to Haven."

Oghren snorted, "And?"

The sudden rumble of engines caused the camp to whirl into motion, as the gates came open and let in two small warmachines. The visitors craned their necks to see as the Wardens cheered, raising a toast to the return of some of their own.

Two mages Hawke and Janna didn't recognize jumped off the back of the blocky warmachines. As the doors opened with a whine, two familiar men came into view.

Teagan and Carver stopped dead in their tracks, eyebrows furrowed in surprise as they processed who were staring back at them. Carver tore across the tented mess hall, quickly gaining ground on his sister. Teagan followed behind, less enthusiastic.

At full speed, Carver nearly crashed into his older sister, barely missing Alistair as he grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her roughly.

"Was it Varric's idea of a joke?" he roared, "Writing me a letter telling me you were dead?"

Hawke's hands were in the air in surrender, allowing her brother to process the anger he was feeling, but to her surprise, he simply wrapped her tall, wiry frame in his arms tightly for a moment, gulping back sobs against the cool night air. She placed a hand on his head, softly, shushing him like she had when they were children. It felt so surreal to see Carver again... How long had it been?

Anders cleared his throat, giving her a meaningful look. Hawke ignored it for a moment, giving him a severe look back, and allowing Carver to regain his composure.

"I, I almost thought I was the only one left," he said, his voice still shaking slightly.

"I couldn't leave you alone, Carver... Not now."

"I-- I... I'm going to get something to drink," he sighed uneasily, "Don't go anywhere."

"Hawke," Anders said, clearly agitated and warning.

She shook her head, "How am I going to explain this to him, Anders?"

Teagan took this moment to step in, "How about you explain this to me, then?"

Alistair froze, turning to see the confusion etched in Teagan's features.

"Uncle, if you'll allow me to explain--" He began, but a hand clapped on his shoulder, interrupting him.

"We've obviously overstayed our welcome," Evinn interjected, motioning to Janna and Hawke, "I think it's about time we turn in for the night. Nathaniel, was it? Will you show us to the quarters we could borrow for the evening?"

Nathaniel obliged, motioning for Anders to follow.

Oghren scoffed as the group left, lifting his glass in salute.

"Alistair, you better have a good explanation as to why there are two known dead among our ranks tonight," Teagan said sternly, watching as the group disappeared into the barracks, "And why they are staying in private rooms?"

Alistair began to explain as the fire pit began burning lower. Carver returned to find his sister gone, much to his disappointment. He couldn't say he was surprised, just that the same bitterness as always flowed through him. Though he never fully got along with her, just seeing her in person did light a bit of a fire in his belly. He trundled off to bed a short while later, not fully listening to what Alistair was saying. He didn't stop talking until the fire was nothing but embers, with Oghren and the other wardens familiar with the situation crowding close to hear.

After he heard Alistair's piece, Teagan shook his head, "Frankly, I agree with Anora! Alistair, you're not thinking rationally."

Oghren cut in at this point, "Has he ever? The boy's always thought with his pike, from what I've seen,"

He snickered at his own joke, while the others looked at him distastefully.

"I just... Uncle, there are too many similarities for me to ignore," Alistair sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "Look, I know what you and Anora are thinking, and I know under any other circumstance, I'd agree, but--"

Teagan sighed, his forefinger and thumb massaging the bridge of his nose, "But I know you too well. You're still planning on helping them, aren't you?"

"I have to."

Alistair's voice was all but choked with emotion. Teagan shook his head, angrily this time.

"But you don't have to! You'll get yourself killed for some imposter, just for some sense of false closure!"

Alistair's hands balled into fists at his sides, "And if it is a false sense of closure, at least its closure! Some way I could help her in the end! What if something happened to someone you love-- You couldn't understand..."

Teagan sighed again, a hand running through his hair in discomfort.

"It's obvious I won't sway you. But I don't want to lose you to this, Alistair. I've already lost one nephew to preventable circumstances!"

Alistair's eyes shone bright suddenly, "Then come with me. Prove your point if she's bluffing, and drive a warmachine! we only need four drivers! With you, Carver, Oghren and I, we can get them safely to Haven."

Teagan glared at him-- was he serious?

Oghren coughed awkwardly, attempting to break the tension as the two men continued to stare at each other in silence.

"I'm in if we can get two more drivers," he snorted.

Alistair motioned to him, a triumphant grin spreading on his face.

"You can even take Anders-- he's from here, and a known not-dead person headed for Haven," he tried.

Teagan groaned, "Since you're so set on this, what choice do I have?"


	9. Wherein the Tension Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is fairly in depth about Alistair/Cousland. hope you enjoy!

**With a plan formulated by all the wardens involved** , Alistair stalked quietly back to the barracks. He avoided the others, though he knew that their plan had been hardly secret-- anyone who used to be part of their old crew would back him, after all.

Nonetheless his stomach twisted in uneasy knots. There was no way Anora would allow this insubordination.

If he did this, he likely wouldn't be allowed back into Denerim. Anora had never liked him--- having him there was always a threat to her leadership, as they didn't usually agree. This was just the sort of thing she needed to get people on her side.

He swallowed hard.

This was nonetheless something he had to do. There were no other options for him.

He lingered outside the doors of the private rooms quietly, unsure of what to do next; which room was Janna in, and should he even go to her first?

His ears focused in the silence-- suddenly he could just barely make out a conversation from beyond the closed doors.

"--I get that Anders, I do, but..."

"I cannot believe you did that to him," Anders fumed from behind the door, only slightly muffled, "I'm half tempted to go drag him in here, so you can--"

"Don't do that," Janna interrupted.

"I just... How? Why? What purpose did you treating him like that serve?"

"You don't get it," her voice was just barely audible. Alistair pressed his ear to the door quietly, "He had me tied up-- I was the ONLY one tied up, mind you, and he left me to rot in that room, alone. He barely batted an eye as I sat there sobbing in front of him. I--"

Anders' voice was tinged with Justice's anger, "He was protecting his home! A safe-haven that the two of you built together! This was the only piece of you he had left before you popped out of that rift! How did you expect him to react?!"

"Anders-- Justice! Don't you think I know that?!" she pleaded.

Alistair could hardly hear over his own heart thudding in his ears. He shouldn't be listening to this, but in the same breath he couldn't peel himself away.

"You do love him, don't you?"

The words caused Alistair's breath to catch in his throat. He listened to the silence as Janna prepared her thoughts.

He could barely make out her words when she finally spoke. She was deadly quiet.

"You know I do, Anders. He's the same here as he is there, down to the way he breathes. Every moment I'm around him I feel like... Like I'll burst."

"So _why_ are you putting him through the ringer?" Anders' voice was empassioned from beyond the closed door.

"Because, I'm just going to up and leave again... Isn't it just easier for everyone if we don't... I don't know, give in? And what would I say to Alistair, once I got back to Thedas? Hmm?"

Alistair shrugged to himself; she had fair points. Anders clearly was not taking it the same way, however.

"How long has it been since you've so much as seen him?"

She sighed, "It's been a long time, Anders. I nearly crumbled and grabbed him the first time I saw him here. Maker, he even smells the way I remember."

Alistair caught himself sniffing passively, chuckling at the idea.

So she loved him after all. And what's more, she was only trying to distance herself to spare his feelings. He sighed. It sounded like something she'd try to do. Janna was one who usually bit off more than she could chew for the sake of others.

"Janna," he sighed to himself, his forehead pressed flat against the wood of the door.

A loud creak told him that someone stood up from the bed. He scrambled back away from the door as he heard Anders sigh, "In the end , it's your choice, Janna."

The door swung open on its hinges as Anders shuffled past, yawning, "I'm headed to bed. Come get me if you need m--"

His voice cracked slightly as he caught sight of Alistair standing sheepishly down the hall, his arms drawn to his chest awkwardly.

Janna called from beyond the door, "Anders? Everything all right?"

He shook his head with a soft smile, "I'm fine, Janna. Good night."

Anders closed the door, walking silently down the hall to where Alistair stood awkwardly.

"It's obvious you heard some of that," Anders smirked as he passed, Alistair's ears turning a lovely shade of crimson, "So I'm letting you decide what to do. Good luck, warden."

With a passive wave of his hand, he disappeared into his own private room. Alistair was left in the quiet of the hall, his fingers pressing white ovals into the flesh on the back of his neck. He was suddenly consumed with nerves, his heart fluttering in ways he hadn't felt in cycles. Part of him wanted to back down, and rejoin the other wardens in the tents-- just put this off until morning.

He shook his head, trying to banish the thought. If he waited until morning, it would be too late. Better to get her while he thought she might be awake, and able to convey his message to the others.

Gathering what little nerve he had left, he made his way back down the hall to the room Janna's voice was heard in. He gently laid his knuckles against the door, before tapping as lightly as he could manage.

Silence.

"She must not have heard," he groaned to himself, heart in his throat. Unceremoniously, he rapped his knuckles against the door again, louder this time.

"Wha-- Yes, come in?" She called, sounding startled, from beyond the door.

Alistair opened the door to find Janna sitting at an old, worn boudoir, warden-issue pajamas hanging off her small shoulders. There was genuine surprise in her eyes as she realized who was standing in her doorway.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else--" She said, scrambling to make herself decent. One knee was pulled tight to her chest, the other looped underneith the chair, but as he entered the room, she fumbled to right herself, nearly stumbling in the process. She drew the night-shirt up over her shoulders and clasped at her collar defensively.

They stood in the center of the room awkwardly, unable to stop from staring at each other. Finally Alistair shook his nerves away once more, pulling a map from his pocket and motioning to the desk area on the boudoir, "May I?"

Breathlessly, she nodded. He pulled the chair out from the desk, ignoring the loud scrape of wood against wood, and motioned for her to sit. She obeyed, quietly, and listened intently as he began to lay out their plan.

His eyes trailed for a brief moment to watch the rise and fall of her chest. She was the same, and yet, it looked like the past few years hadn't been easy on her. There were scars on her shoulders, peeking out just slightly from the nightshirt's top. Part of him wanted to simply wrap his arms around her and envelop her. He fought the urges, continuing to converse.

"We're expected to start another patrol tomorrow. Oghren, Nathaniel and I are set to travel east, the same way we were travelling when we found you. Teagan and Carver are set to head west, however, and their tinkers won't be easy to leave behind. As long as they don't do something wrong though, it shouldn't be too hard to give them the slip."

Janna seemed visibly frustrated, however. She ran a hand over her face, swiping at the tension in her temples.

"What is it?"

She sighed, "It's just too much. You're risking a lot with this plan, Alistair. It doesn't feel right. You're committing treason-- mutiny at the very least; what would Anora do to people who cross her like that?"

He tried to laugh it off, "Please. She's been expecting this for cycles now. I'm sure she'd be disappointed if I _didn't_ do this," but to no avail. Janna glanced up at the man stretched over her shoulder, currently straightening out an already straight map.

She made no counter-argument, however. She simply continued to stare at him quietly, with furrowed brows.

Finally, he assented, "But yes. Anora and I have been at odds for a long time, now, and she's been looking for an excuse to get me kicked out of Denerim. She knows that the wardens-- currently our only defense here, stand behind me, and knew she couldn't turn them against me. But with this she may be able to sway the newest recruit's opinions. So if we leave tomorrow, I probably won't be coming back."

She began to protest, twisting back toward him in the chair, but Alistair placed a hand on her lean shoulder.

"Janna. The other Wardens and I discussed this already. We know the risks, and we want this stupid embargo to end. The summit is our best chance," He sighed, his fingers flexing around her softly.

Their eyes connected for a moment, tension in the air suddenly palpable.

Janna broke their eye contact a moment later, shaking lightly out of his grip, "F-fine. What do you need us to do?"

He coughed, his cheeks reddening, "Right," as he directed her attention back to the map.

"There's a cluster of caverns south west of here. It's about a half day's walk, if you keep up a good pace."

Janna nodded, "So we meet you there, then?"

He smiled, "We should be able to get there quickly with our warmachines, but you'll need to find your way there on your own."

"With Anders we should have less of a problem navigating, but everything looks the same out there. Do you have any tips?"  
  
Alistair began to lay out several ways for them to navigate, but paused when Janna gave him another oddly frustrated look.

When he stared intently at her, she confessed, "It would still be easier if you could just lend us a warmachine. That would be the end of it."

Alistair looked at her, temper flaring.

"Are you still on that? No-- it's too difficult, I won't allow it!"

"Oh, you won't allow it?" her tone betrayed her disgust at the notion, "It's funny that you think you have a choice in what I do! For all you know I could just steal one, like Zevran did, and--"

He leaned over her oppressively, nostrils flaring, "You wouldn't dare! I know you too well, and now is no time to start from scratch. I won't--"

Suddenly Janna was on him like a wild animal, breathing heavily as she kissed him, pushing him back toward the wall opposite them. One hand flew through his hair, the other pulling him flush to her.

"That's it--" She moaned into him between passionate kisses, "I can't bear this. I've missed you," a sigh escaped her as he bit her neck softly, "So much-- ahh,"

He paused, whirling her around so she was pinned back against the wall, hitching her legs over his hips and hoisting her off the ground.

"I've missed you too," he groaned into her throat, his voice coming in low and labored.

As he continued to hold her off the ground, anchored against the wall, her lips opened and coaxed his tongue to her as they continued passionately. He shuddered against her, hands planted firmly supporting her weight in his arms.

"What about," he managed to labor the words out as she continued to ravage his neck and make her way up his chin, "What you said to Anders?"

She paused, looking at him confused.

"You overheard that?"

His cheeks burned, "The buildings are not soundproof here."

"Ah."

She recoiled slightly at that. He held her for a moment longer, both of their ears burning, until she squeaked and he set her down gently.

They glanced at each other in the awkward silence, still close to one another.

"It made sense, when you laid it all on the line," Alistair confessed, a hand trailing up the back of his neck, "And I don't want to put anything between us. Truth be told, I'm just happy to see you again..."

Janna, her mind made up, wrapped her fists in the front of his collar, pulling his face flush to hers, and pressing her lips to his once again.

"You don't get it! You're him! And you're here, with me! I just.... I don't know when I'll see you again!"

He could see tears forming at the corners of her eyes, and as their lips broke apart again, his broad hand cupped her cheek, his thumb swiping away a rogue drop.

"Please... Don't leave me alone tonight," She begged.

He seemed unsure still.

"Does that seem wise?"

"I... I don't know, Alistair. I haven't seen you in years. I've been searching for a cure to the taint for so long now, I've been away from you longer than we were together for. And it hurts! So much so, that any chance I get to spend with you, I want to take," she sighed, little sobs overtaking her. Awkwardly, he tried to comfort her, his arms folding around her frame.

He held her until she recovered, the sobs breaking away to silence. with a sigh, he thought about how late it was getting. He was supposed to be up at dawn to begin his patrol, which meant they had very little time to rest before they put their plan into action. He began to remove his outer layers, folding them up and setting them gently in the chair near the boudoir.

"Tonight, then," he sighed, a hint of a smile betrayed on his lips. He stripped down to nothing but his linen trousers, laying down and motioning for Janna to join him.

He lay his head on the pillow, and crooked his knees as Janna blew out the lantern. He heard the dull thud of cloth hitting the floor, but he said nothing until she joined him in the darkness.

"We need to get up at sunrise. And at that point, you'll need to give the others the information about the plan ahead," he said as she climbed into the bed.

He was surprised to feel smooth flesh against his linen trousers. Janna had shed her nightclothes, leaving nothing but her smallclothes and an undershirt on. He suppressed a chuckle to himself as she snuggled close. The familiar smell of her hair and skin caused an involuntary shiver.

"Y-you smell the same too, you know," he managed, quietly, as an aside that seemed almost to himself. Janna chuckled.

"I'm not surprised."

Alistair tugged her flush to him, his lips closing reverently at the base of her neck, eliciting a shiver.

"Good night, my love," he whispered into her flesh, feeling her relax into him, "Tomorrow will be a long day, I'm afraid."


	10. Ejection from Denerim

**Janna awoke to a brawny** , freckled arm flexing around her. Alistair's breath was soft in her ear, still in the throes of sleep. She lay there for a moment simply drinking in the sensation of another warm body next to her before she moved to get up. Gently she slipped out from under his arm, moving to get dressed as a sleepy voice moaned, "Where are you going?"

She stopped short, glancing over to the bed. Alistair had only stirred slightly, his face now buried in the pillow. She chuckled, ducking to the corner of the room, where she faced the wall to get dressed.

Alistair turned over and cracked one eye in time to see the light skin of her bare back as she dressed facing away from him. A small smile broke on his lips as he laid back to look at the ceiling and thank the Maker-- and whoever else was responsible-- for this moment.

A smug chuckle brought his gaze back to a now fully clothed Janna, smirking at him in the soft light of morning.

"Don't you have a plan to relay, or a patrol to start or something?" she asked, an eyebrow raised coyly in his direction.

He feigned a hurt look, "Are you so quick to see me go?"

She crossed the room briskly to place her hands gently around his chin. She guided her lips to him, placing a kiss squarely on his forehead.

"Alistair, You know I could never be," she said, sadness hinting in her voice. Dropping his chin from her fingers before the temptation to crawl back into the bed became to great, she made her way to the door. Standing with one hand on the knob, she looked back over her shoulder.

"Give me a head start, okay?"

her voice was soft, and very close to breaking.

Alistair tore himself from the bed to hold her close one last time, enveloping her small frame in his.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair.

She sniffled slightly, patting his forearm gently in agreement.

"I'll meet you at the gates after breakfast, okay?" He said, begging her to make eye contact. She did, after a moment of coercion, and nodded.

"Okay. I love you too, Alistair..." She sighed.

He cradled her one last time, pulling her chin up towards him and placed a delicate kiss on her lips.

"Stay in the caves until nightfall. we'll meet you there when we can."

Without another word, he exited the room, leaving Janna confused, then irritable when she noticed that she would have to wait a while before she could leave. It gave him adequate time to come up with a cover story, but it was still underhanded, she groaned to herself.

Her anger dissipated, however, when she looked down and realized he'd left wearing nothing but his trousers; the pile of his dirty clothes sat vacantly on the chair of the boudoir. She chuckled, walking over and scooping them up, before folding them just slightly smaller and tucking them into her pack.

It was better to not leave evidence, she kept telling herself. 

* * *

 

Janna joined the group shortly afterward as the Wardens communed once more in the mess tents. The camp was already awake and alive, even though the sun was just rising beyond the dunes.

Evinn and Hawke regarded her with a wave, bringing her close as they whispered questions over breakfast. Anders ate quietly, contemplating as Janna spoke, recounting the things Alistair had told her the night before. She began to withdraw the map from her satchel when Anders placed a hand on hers, shaking his head and quietly warning her not to lose the advantageous gift they'd been given. Silently she agreed, reaching instead for a roll that she passively munched on as the others drank in the sights.

All around them, Wardens were buzzing with activity as they prepared to set off on whatever tasks lay ahead. Across the camp, Janna caught sight of strawberry hair and freckled forearms as Alistair bent over his rig thoughtfully. She forced herself to look away, however, as Hawke eyed her with a smirk.

"So," Hawke grinned, "Did our warden friend bestow any <other> advantageous gifts on you last night?"

Evinn and Anders groaned disapprovingly as Hawke howled with laughter at her own joke.

  
Anora approached Alistair quietly as he tuned up the engine of his warmachine. She cleared her throat softly as he put down his tools, and reached for an oil rag to his right.

"I trust you know what time it is," she asked cooly.

Without looking back toward her, Alistair muttered, "And good morning to you, too, Anora. How was your night? I slept well, thank you."

She ignored his snarky retort, instead casting an eye on their unwelcome visitors as she spoke.

"It's past time for your patrol to leave, Alistair. You're doing more than just hurting our reputation at this point."

He sighed, finally turning to face her.

"Warmachines bend to no one, Anora. My griffon was acting up, and thus we couldn't leave on time. As you can see, Carver and Teagan have already left, and the others are waiting right there," he motioned to the gate, Where Velanna, Oghren and Nathaniel sat on the hood of their griffon, watching their conversation anxiously.

"But you're right. It's time to send our guests on their way, and you can be more than happy to watch as I do so."

He closed the hood with a heavy click, sighing as he pulled his jacket sleeves back down. He stalked down the mess tent as the travelers finished their meal, Hawke stuffing the remains into her pack as quickly as she could manage.

"You all have water skins, right?" Alistair managed to whisper.

As they nodded, he cupped his hands to his lips, and shouted to gain the camp's attention, "Wardens! It is time to send off our guests!"

The crowd erupted in a long call of approval, and everyone still in camp shuffled toward the gates, ushering the group away quickly and quietly.

As they walked together, Alistair unwound the scarf wrapped around his neck, and laid it gently around Janna's shoulders. She froze at the tender action, clenching the strip of cloth nervously.

Alistair continued forward, however, not even chancing a final look back on his love until they were to the colony's gates.

Anora regarded the travelers with a smile, "We wish you the best of luck, friends. Safe travels."

In an effort of goodwill, she motioned for her fellow wardens to bring out the visitor's weapons, Janna's maul wrapped in a soft chamise, and the others' staffs in similar condition.

Janna nodded as they retrieved their weaponry, trying to sound grateful, "Thank you for your hospitality. May you be safe as well."

In truth, Janna had always wanted to like Anora, though her resemblance to Loghain had always made it difficult.

Nervously, the travelers began making their way over the first dune, and out of the valley that hid Denerim from the early morning light. As they turned away, they heard the creak of the gates, shutting and locking them out of the Colony.

"Some hospitality," Hawke groaned, shrugging her pack into place.

Evinn shook his head, "At least they let us spend the night, Hawke."

Anders nodded, "And Alistair snuck us a map. We're on our way at the very least."

Janna scanned the horizon, pulling the map from its pouch in her satchel.

"We're to head this way," she pointed, before handing the map to Anders, "But I hope you'll navigate when it comes to specifics, since you've been in the area before."  
  
They began their trek, scanning the horizon and chatting as they walked, clearly nervous but no one willing to address it. 

* * *

 

The caves came into view as the sun came nearer to the horizon. Evinn kept his cloak drawn tightly around his face, despite the heat, sighing to himself. Beyond the caves were mountains, the sandy terrain giving way to rocky terrain in the distance. As he paused to take a swig from his water skin, Hawke raised a question that had concerned him previously.

"There are a lot of caves here, Janna... How do we know which one they'll meet us in?"

She looked back at her companions, groaning slightly.

"We didn't pick an individual one... We just said we'd meet here, in this general area tonight."

"That seems... a bit dangerous, doesn't it?" Evinn asked after a moment of consideration.

Janna mulled it over. Had she been blind to the possibility of being set up?

When she gave no reply, no one dared to broach the subject with her again.

They decided to roost on an outcropping of stone overshadowed by a withered tree trunk. The caverns loomed over them oppressively as they broke for a short meal, taking turns scanning the horizon for any sign of their Grey Warden friends.

Evinn was growing more and more restless by the moment, from the wait and the fear of a possible ambush as the sun began to set. It seemed Janna was feeling similarly, as she motioned to the others, "Anyone feel like exploring the caves?"

Anders shook his head, "Someone should keep watch for the wardens. I'll stay here."

Hawke agreed, settling in next to him, "And I'll stay here with him."

Evinn stood, giving Janna a reassuring nod, "I'll come with you."

And with that, the two made their way over the hill to the largest of the cluster of caverns. The last of the sunlight filtered through the mouth of the cave softly as Janna and Evinn entered. The cavern was not very big-- in fact, it was smaller than either of them thought it might be, as they could see the other side from the entrance. it narrowed significantly however, and as they made their way to the back corner, the pit of Evinn's stomach dropped.

"There's someone here," he said, cautiously drawing his staff, and beckoning Janna to do the same.

The cave's occupant was in a slumped sitting position in the dark, near the remains of an extinguished fire. As they inched forward, however, the figure's head shot up, regarding them with bright, cat-like eyes that glinted in the darkness. with a pop, the figure advanced, a staff dragging behind it as it closed the distance between them. It walked on padded feet, eerily silent.

Janna raised her hammer, backing up in an attempt to retain some ground from the other, when Evinn stepped between them, hands outstretched in warning.

When the glow of his green palm came into view the figure paused in the darkness, dropping his stance in sheer surprise.

"Inquisitor?"


	11. Pinned and Pinged

**The voice was gentle and worried.**

Evinn was astonished.

"Solas?"

Now Janna was interested, "Evinn, you know him?"

Evinn nodded in the darkness, "Yes. He's an elvhen apostate, and a good friend. He kept me alive when I first recieved this... mark. I owe him my life."

The elf relaxed visibly, closing the distance between them once more. Janna, still defensive, continued to hold her ground. Evinn chided her, putting away his staff and motioning to Solas, "What are you doing here?"

Solas regarded them quietly, "I could ask you the same question..."

  
Together, they made for the mouth of the cave, conversing in hushed whispers as the sun set.

"I seem to always take for granted your ability to fall into unlucky situations," Solas chuckled.

Upon their exiting the cavern, they noticed a roaring fire just beyond the tree stump. Anders flagged them down, and as they approached, he pointed to the two sets of headlights quickly rolling into view. Two warmachines ground to a halt in front of them as Teagan and Carver slipped from the cab of each one.

Teagan cast a wary glance over the group as he asked, "Where are Alistair and the others?"

Evinn gave him a curious look in reply, "They aren't with you?"

Teagan shook his head.

"We had to find a location to drop our tinkers that wasn't too disruptive or conspicuous. It took us all day, and we nearly ran into trouble from a Black City scouting band on our way here. They delayed us til now, but we expected to be the last ones here."

Janna seemed uneasy, "Do you think they could have had trouble with the same scouts?"

Teagan considered for a moment, "It's unlikely, but I suppose it's possible."

Suddenly, a flare erupted into the sky, illuminating the corner of their field of vision. Teagan cursed loudly.

"That's a warden issue flare," he growled, starting back toward the griffon in a huff.

He wrenched open the door, climbing inside and rolling down the windows.

"We've only got room for one more occupant apiece in the cabs, and one on top. Someone's going to have to stay behind."

Anders and Hawke wheeled around, seemingly noticing Solas for the first time in all the commotion. He stepped up, however, and quelled the others' questions before they arose, "Truly, there's no need. I have a single occupant vehicle, and I can use my own magic. The others are the higher priority at the moment, so don't worry about me."

He tore off to the smallest of the caverns behind them, an engine roaring to life as he rode the motorcycle into view.

"Do you have enough fuel?" Carver ventured, unsure of how precarious the situation might become.

Solas nodded, "enough for a trip to Haven, and back to Denerim."

Teagan nodded, "Good enough for right now. Load up, everyone-- We're heading toward that distress signal."

* * *

 

Hawke felt generally unlucky, crammed in the jump seat behind Carver while Anders took point. She watched in awe as the bald elf sped ahead of them on his two-wheeled monstrosity; how it managed to stay upright was a mystery.

Carver bit his tongue, quietly navigating and listening to the static of the radio, before rallying his thoughts in a way he could articulate.

He caught his sister off guard when he asked point blank, "So Teagan say's you're not actually her. Is that right?"

She squirmed in her seat, continuing to look out the window in silence.

"So it's true..." he sighed, after a moment of discomfort, "I'm the last one left."

She wanted to console him, or reach out and do something. Her voice came out hoarsely, forced out of her dry mouth, "Carver, I'm sorry. I am Ghena Hawke. I am your sister in some ways, but... It's so much more complicated than that."

He shook his head, trying to will away the hardened emotion in his voice.

"Care to even try to explain?"

Hawke considered carefully. She began to unpack her story as they drove, telling him about their flight from Ostagar, the background information about Thedas, and how they made their names in Kirkwall. She moved on to how Carver became a Grey Warden, and that even though he had been removed from Kirkwall, he still managed to help her by finding the resting place of Corypheus, and by helping her end the fight with the Knight Commander. She moved on to speak about going into hiding, to throw the trail off Carver as he went to Weisshaupt, and how she came into contact with the Inquisition. Carver listened intently, and when Hawke finally fell silent, he took a deep breath.

"And somehow, you ended up here."

She nodded, watching his eyes follow her in the rearview mirror.

"It certainly took me by surprise," she chuckled dryly.

"And you'll be leaving, no doubt?"

"If there's a way to... We've got a Corypheus of our own to defeat, I'm afraid."

Carver nodded, a strange calm coming over him.

"Can I ask you something?"

Hawke looked surprised by his question.

"Sure."

"Was I a good enough brother?"

Hawke looked dumbfounded by the question, staring at her Carver as the radio crackled in the cab.

"Not just as a brother though," he continued, paying her expression no mind, "But, was I good enough for the Hawke name?"

Loud shouting interrupted the thought, however, ripping through the cab as the radio came into range of other vehicles, roaring to life as a familiar voice shouted, "-- repeat, we are pinned down! Do you copy?! Teagan! Carver! We could use a little help here!"

Carver managed to growl through gritted teeth, "Hold that thought."

He picked up the radio, thumbing the button with a slightly shaking hand as he answered, "We copy that. We're on our way. We saw the flare, don't worry. We got to the rendevous point-- the others are safe. they're here with us, and we'll be at your location soon. Stay put, don't do anything stupid. Carver out."

Hawke and Carver were again thrown into uncomfortable silence as the warmachine hurled them further and further into the desert. At last they climbed a dune and came upon the smoldering wreckage of one of the warmachines.

Alistair was a sitting duck, scrunched low in his seat as arrows riddled the engine compartment of his vehicle. Carver called up to Anders as he slammed on the gas, "Think you're ready to defend?"

Anders stifled a bitter laugh, "ah if only heroism didn't run in the family."

Teagan followed shortly behind Carver, pulling around a ridge as the enemy warband prepared another volley of arrows to meet them.

Hawke's eyes travelled around the battle scene, counting the enemies she could-- one, two, three, four warmachines, all boasting drivers, with two mages and two archers. Nathaniel and Oghren did well at picking away a few before they'd arrived, as she could see a few unmanned warmachines sitting hauntingly still amidst the chaos. She unfastened her belt from the jumpseat, opening the window behind her and shimmying up to the cover Anders stood against.

"Don't be a hero, and I'll give you an answer when the fighting stops, Carver," she grinned, calling out to her brother below, whose grimace she didn't catch as the fighting began again.

An archer made a break for an unmanned turret, and Hawke saw her chance. Green energy enveloped her and Anders as Evinn cast a barrier around them. She took aim, concentrating a mind blast at the archer that sent them sprawling, vitals facing the sky. Nathaniel caught Hawke's drift in time to pin the archer, an arrow slicing deftly through it's side. With a howl, they went down, clutching and sputtering in pain. Oghren shouted a happy hoot in reply.

A lightning bolt careened toward them, knocking Anders off the vehicle and dissipating his shield as an enemy mage prepared to do more damage. Justice sparked in Anders' eyes as vengeance crossed his mind.

"I am not finished yet," he roared, glowing harsh and blue against the night sky as his fingers curled around a forming fireball. He brandished his staff in the direction of the attack and fired, a cascade of fireballs following the first. The vehicle the other mage was perched atop flipped with the force, sending them sprawling backward.

Feeling now was the time, Evinn lifted his palm to the sky, beckoning a rift to come forth and take what it would. Solas, arriving behind him, watched in silent awe as the vehicles below the mini-rift shook and rattled at the effort. It soon dissipated, however, and Alistair breathed a silent sigh of relief from his damaged cab that Demons didn't accompany this one.

From his perch on the bike, Solas began casting a spell of ice and snow, a blizzard raining down on their enemies. Icy wind whipped around them, but did little to slow the remaining mage and archer.

As the drivers began to pull themselves from their vehicles to join the scuffle, the volley of arrows ceased, and the red glow of the archer vanished, leaving only the Mage to defend its' counterparts.

Janna gritted her teeth from Teagan's cockpit, "Rogue-- Be on your guard, everyone!"

Evinn decided at this moment to pop a spell of haste, shooting forward over the hood of the warmachine and into range of the other mage.

"Cover me!" he shouted, drawing his golden sword.

Hawke cursed, reaching into herself to pull forth the mana necessary for her firestorm ability. it began to rain down upon them, as Teagan, Carver and Oghren joined the fight. Oghren shouldered his heavy axe, grinning threateningly across the battlegrounds, "Who's first?"

his eyes locked on a brawny driver to his left, a nice hefty crystal protruding from their hip, "looks like its you, then,   
big guy."

He took off as fast as his dwarven legs could take him, threatening and managing to knock the opponent prone. They countered quickly, however, as a gloved fist connected with Oghren's face. There was a crunch, and a spatter of blood as Oghren's driving goggles cracked, but Oghren didn't slow. With a savage laugh he swung his axe, embedding it cleanly in the other's shoulder, easily rending bone from muscle. They fell with a heavy thump, fingers convulsing slightly as Oghren put a foot on their shoulder, levering his axe from its' resting place.

Evinn meanwhile was making quick work of the enemy mage. They tried to duck and dodge as he slashed, but he gained ground on them quickly, slicing cleanly until he felt the sickening slide of mana blade through flesh. They gasped loudly, jumping backward as blood ran thick over their fingers. They drew back their hand to look at the morbid liquid as loud engines thundered over the dune beyond them. Everyone, from adventurers to the red lyrium warband spun around in the confusion, wondering what fresh new hell was descending now, when a blade slid neatly into the slot between Carver's lowest ribs.

He felt nothing as his hands cupped around the exit wound, the shriek of his sister's voice becoming the only thing he could hear. Anders and Hawke descended beside him, guiding him to the ground as the enemy rogue was riddled with arrows. Janna and Evinn rejoined the group as Evinn recognized none other than Bulls' Chargers mobbing the remaining enemies, dispatching them smoothly.

Nathaniel and Oghren took their places beside Alistair's warmachine, opening the door and gently looping him under their arms. They guided him back to the group as Teagan and Janna caught sight-- an arrow was lodged tightly in his thigh, and a burn on his right shoulder was beginning to blister against what remained of the cloth around it. He hissed through gritted teeth as he leaned heavily on Nathaniel, limping and trying to salvage his dignity all at once.

the Iron Bull cast an interested eye over the party, shouldering his weapon.

"You folks on your way to Haven?" he asked skeptically.


	12. Steel-Edged Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one is on the short end of things.... the story's about to get juicy though, i promise you! stay tuned!

**Stitches and the rest of the Chargers** helped load their new found tag-alongs in, and as the gigantic 18-wheeled rig rumbled into motion, they began to dress Carver's wounds.

Alistair groaned when Janna, who quietly stole an alcohol soaked scrap from the surgeon's pack, managed to dab at his burns harder than she'd intended as the rig jostled around them. she recoiled, giving him an extremely sorry look. His bristled demeanor softened slightly in an attempt to persuade her that she wasn't at fault. The two of them sat in awkward silence, however, as Ghena Hawke attempted to reign in her quiet sobs from a few feet away.

She clutched Carver's hand, watching the color draining from his cheeks. He couldn't die-- Not like this. She cursed herself for not keeping a closer eye on the rogue. It didn't matter that this wasn't her world; Carver was her brother.

His eyelids fluttered as he slipped in and out of consciousness, sweat showing visibly on his forehead. Stitches worked quickly and quietly, seeming as though he didn't care to notice the exchange between these unwelcome visitors.

Hawke bit back another sob, finally addressing Stitches, as if psyching herself up for the worst, "Ser, is he going to be alright?"

Carver managed to interject a feverish chuckle, "Do I look alright?"

Hawke resisted the urge to cry even louder--- he was so pale; the only other time she'd seen him so pale was in the deep roads, just before--

Stitches took this moment to consider aloud, "He's lost a lot of blood, kid. I'm doing what I can, but, it may be a close call."

A howl attempted to rip itself from her lungs, which she denied. Instead she cradled his hand close again, pressing it to her forehead and cursing everything.

"You should have stayed in the machine, you great idiot," she whispered, tears bubbling down her cheeks, "You had to ask me that stupid, foreboding question!"

Carver's voice came shaky, almost raspy now, "I needed to know, sister..."

"Shut up," the words were meant as a warning, but came out colder than she'd intended.

"Save your strength, Carver," Hawke tried again, fingers tensing around her little brother's wide hand, "But, yes, you colossal buffoon; you've always been worthy of the Hawke name. In my world and in yours, you've been nothing but a good brother, faced with terrible circumstances. I'm proud of you-- I've always been proud to call you my family."

She sniffed loudly, swiping the tears from her face without dropping his hand. He attempted to wrinkle his nose at the action when a shiver rippled through him.

Hawke looked meaningfully at Stitches, "Ser, how can I--"

Stitches nodded stoically, motioning with his chin in the direction of the corner of the rig, "Grab some elfroot from the stock over there."

Wordlessly Hawke agreed, patting Carver's hand as she let go to cross through the teeming mass of passengers.

They stood and sat nearly body to body throughout the cargo hold of the 18 wheeler, with one clear exit at one end of the rig, and a smaller door welded to allow access to the cab. As Hawke made her way to where Stitches indicated, she caught sight of the same large, intimidating Qunari that addressed their group previously, hunched now and speaking in hushed whispers to the Inquisitor. She sighed, unsure of whether or not to even believe the situation they were in now. All she could do was focus on getting the elfroot to the surgeon. Then it would be her job to wait.

the Iron Bull couldn't take his eyes off the Inquisitor. He'd gotten news on one of their patrols that they'd lost him, though the details weren't conveyed well enough as to how; now he didn't know if he believed it. Solas had approached him earlier, however, stating succinctly that the Inquisitor was not to know that he'd arrived at Haven before the rest of the adventurers. It was of the utmost importance, he'd said firmly. While the Iron Bull didn't know if he believed the urgency in the matter, he still managed to keep his promise to the elf, who'd sped ahead on his bike as the rig rumbled into motion. The other Grey Wardens caravaned behind, requesting radio updates on their two wounded.

He sighed, concluding what short, clipped and nervous conversation he could pull from the Inquisitor, and stood to get a scan of the cargo hold with his good eye. He noted Alistair, still wincing as they popped over boulders, and Carver unmoving, save for the weak rise and fall of his pale chest as Stitches worked in earnest. He pressed through the knot of passengers in front of him, reaching the welded door to the rig's cab, where Cremisius Aclassi sat strapped to the wheel.

"How's morale," he chuckled, eyes still glued to the road.

the Iron Bull sighed, a hand massaging his neck passively, "About what you'd expect. the Chargers are unnerved, seeing all these passengers we were told died over the past few cycles. The only one they really knew is giving me the most trouble. He's agitated, nervous, won't give me a concrete conversation."

Krem nodded, "think he'll give the Divine or the Spymaster any trouble?"

the Iron Bull shook his head, "No, I think we'll have trouble convincing him to get out of the rig if we're being honest."

"Fair enough."

Krem picked up the radio, his thumb pausing on the button before eyeing the Iron Bull once more, "What's the status on the two Wardens? Their watchmen are worried, and requesting some information."

Bull nodded, "the redhead, Alistair, is fine. A few arrows to be removed, but he's snapped off the shafts so its mostly just digging out the heads when we land in Haven. The dark haired one, Carver, is a bit more precarious. Looked like Stitches was finally starting to get him stable, but we need to get to some healing magic, or the stability won't last   
long."

"More than enough for a report, Chief," Krem replied, "It won't be long now."

"Ever the Optimist, Krem," Bull grinned.

\--------------------------------------------------

The sun threatened to crest over the mountain as the rigs pulled up at the base of the Haven Colony. As Krem radioed in a status report to Haven on what had slowed them down, a familiar voice noted with careful surprise, "Maker knows that's not something you hear every day..."

He begged more information, and Krem obliged with what had been passed to him during the ride. The voice on the other side was now genuinely intrigued, and more than a little bit curious as he opened the gates to the arriving party.

The rig ground to a halt and the Chargers began unloading, their tag-alongs unsure of how to go about moving onward. Hawke hovered close to Stitches as he and several of the others loaded Carver onto a stretcher. Janna approached Hawke quietly as the cargo hold quickly emptied until only they, Alistair and Evinn remained.

She pulled Alistair's linen scarf from her shoulders and wrapped it around Hawke's shellshocked form. Hawke made a move to accept, but merely clasped her hands around the scarf feebly. Janna tried once more, securing the scarf around her nose and mouth with a sigh, "You'll both need to be careful not to cause a scene. From what we heard most of your former companions will be at this summit, remember?"

Evinn nodded, drawing his own hood up off his broad shoulders and over his head, "Don't speak unless absolutely required, as was the plan before."

When Hawke made no move to exit the vehicle, it was Alistair who caught her by surprise when he placed his hands on her shoulders and squared her to face him.

"You need to be strong. Trust the surgeon; your brother is in good hands. They had him stable enough to get him here, and now they'll have access to healing magic. We're at a summit-- who knows how many tinkers will be there to help!"

She shook her head, finally attempting to let their words sink in. She knew they were right, deep down, and she needed her sense of humor to pretend at optimism until she could visit Carver again and be sure.

As the adventurers exited the rig together, a familiarly rich and gravelly voice caused Hawke's shoulders to stiffen, shifting uncomfortably under the linen scarf covering her mouth and nose.

"Is he injured badly?" The voice continued as he stepped into view; magnificent duster now striped with agge, wear and a caking of dust, Varric Tethras glanced over at the team now carrying Carver toward their node, regarding the whole process as a surprise. Finally, he eyed the remains of the ragtag team. His eyes only saw what he wanted to see, however, and he did not notice Hawke. Instead, he looked on in surprise as he noticed not only his old friend Blondie, but also the Inquisitor standing before him. Try as he might, the Inquisitor was hard to miss; he seemed unharmed, aside from a bandaged hand and a lingering guilty expression as his eyes roamed the dead grass at his feet in an attempt to avoid looking at the dwarf's face.

"Andraste's ass," he breathed, "Seems the tinker was onto something."

Alistair, his arm slung gingerly over Janna, hobbled forward in an attempt to calm him before the dwarf could make a scene. Instead, however, Varric simply turned on his heels, sighing in bewilderment, "I'm too old for this shit, but I suppose the lot of you'll want to see Leliana and Dorian?"

The group was caught off guard, but Anders managed a soft reply of, "If we could?"

"What the hell," Varric grumped, "Take the dead tinker and his men to see his old necromancer and spymaster. That's a new one if I've ever heard it."

Hawke fell back, watching as the group lurched forward until her ears trained in on a conversation between Oghren and the Iron Bull. Bull was praising Oghren for the spectacular scene he'd previously witnessed, lauding him as "the best redhead he'd seen in a while, aside from the cook with great tits". Oghren grunted, becoming uncomfortable as the towering qunari continued to praise and hit on him. She managed a chuckle to herself over the exchange, but the noise died in her throat as she felt a gloved hand close around her wrist and pull her down a darkened path branching off the main road.


	13. Thoughts of Reunion

**Hawke nearly groaned** in protest as she watched the group walk away ahead of her, as the person who'd pulled her aside stepped closer into view. Varric stood a few feet from her, arms folded and looking her up and down appraisingly.

"When the Charger described your group, I knew I had to see for myself. This is too good to be true," he said, his voice hinting his own disbelief.

Hawke shuffled from foot to foot uncomfortably; they hadn't had the chance to even attempt at explaining their position to the Chargers before they were loaded into the rig, so just what had been revealed to Varric? She could only assume they had to rely on the information passed on from the other Wardens. She just hoped enough of the story got through.

"Varric, I'm sorry-- I really don't have time to talk about this right now," she sighed, "I need to check on Carver. He was wounded, and--" She made an attempt to push past him, though he saw right through her.

"Hawke, I know you too well," he said, sadness flashing in his voice, "I know you're worried sick about Carver, but I know that going to see him in surgery won't do you any good either. He's in rough shape, but when have you known Carver to go down easy? We should get a drink while the others figure out what they need to. Besides, I don't know about you, but I think I'd rather avoid any confrontation between Dorian and the Inquisitor."

Hawke was at a loss; how was Varric so calm about things? Then, she saw it. There was a tremble in his shoulders, a gap in his usually chipper persona that betrayed his feelings. He was panicking, and she could see him starting to break down at the edges. Instinctively, as she'd done what felt like a thousand times before, Hawke moved to his side, dropping to her knees and enveloping him in as gentle a hug as she could manage at the moment.

"I watched you die. I know deep down I've lost you," he said, as tears bubbled up and streamed down his cheeks. She pressed him close, shushing him quietly, "I know. And I know this makes no sense, but you've got to trust me..."

"I do," he gulped, after a moment, "I don't care how this happened. What matters now is that you're here."

Hawke shook her head, her own tears threatening to overtake everything else.

Over her shoulder, however, she could hear a wistful, if slightly annoyed, sigh. She whirled around as Varric looked up to see Anders, standing with arms folded crossly in front of him.

"How did I know I'd find the two of you seperated from the group? I thought we'd at least have time to explain ourselves to the Inquisition before you snuck off? Maker, its just like old times."

Hawke's arms instinctively dropped to her sides, leaving Varric uncomfortably close and too tear-stained for his own liking. He tried to chuckle it off, however, with a dry look at Anders.

"You know, I should have expected this anyway... the Thinker said he was studying 'time magic', and he did meet up with Merrill and the others a while ago."

Hawke seemed confused.

"Thinker?"

"Dorian. The Necromancer," Varric clarified.

She shrugged, glancing at Anders, "I thought they were called 'tinkers'?"

Varric chuckled, "Did you hit your head or something? Tinkers are battlers, Thinkers are scholars. Surely you didn't lose all your memories when you died?"

The last sentence stuck in his throat and made him wish he hadn't spoken at all. Hawke shook her head, regarding the dwarf sadly.

"Show me where we can get a drink, Varric... Anders and I have a lot of explaining to do."

* * *

 

Janna held Alistair's hand as surgeons swarmed around him, removing arrow heads and exposing his wounds to the chill of the night air.

"Well, this wasn't the way I wanted to spend our first night in Haven," he groaned, a pained hiss escaping his lips as an instrument dug into his thigh. A stern looking woman placed a hand on his knee, sending tendrils of blue toned magic through the damaged muscle tissue, flowing from his legs up to his shoulders.

"Hush warden, and let them do their job," she said, her tone unwavering until another voice interrupted with, "Vivienne-- you're needed in the War Room! There's been an emergency, they want everyone available present!"

She excused herself quickly, regarding Alistair and Janna with a polite, if cold nod, and left them with the surgeons.

"Sounds like they may have discovered who just arrived," Janna sighed, cupping her head in her already preoccupied hands. Alistair smiled despite the surgeons working busily around him, the pain dulling at the edges as he wiggled til his fingers were wrapped around her chin.

"We'll be alright," he said, tipping her face to meet his. Begrudgingly she obliged, allowing him to edge her close enough to kiss him gently.

"Oh good, just what I wanted to see," Anders groaned as he stepped into the room. Janna smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly as she looked up at her old friend.

"Having fun, then?" he smirked down at her.

She shook her head, "Quite the opposite, really. Alistair's getting arrow heads removed," She was interrupted by a whiny interjection of, "From sensitive places!" to which she shot him a dirty look before continuing, "And I'd hate to leave him alone for that. I'd love to have something to eat, however."

Anders nodded thoughtfully, "There's a tavern a few blocks down. Hawke and Varric are there... Catching up."

The words hinted at bitterness, though he tried to play it off, "Seems Varric saw her right when we arrived, and managed to tear her away from the group sooner than I'd expected."

Janna sighed, "the whole group splintered as soon as we got here; does anyone know where our marked friend may have ended up?"

A shrug answered her, "Most likely either to see his advisors, or if he has a one-track mind like the rest of you, whatever the incarnation of his lover might be here."

Janna's lip curled distastefully at the sarcasm with which Anders' comment bit, "That's enough now, Anders."

He shook his head quietly, "I apologize. I spoke without thinking."

With that he got up to leave, "I'll wait outside. Let me know if you want to go to the tavern."

Janna watched as the wiry mage slunk off out of sight. Alistair sighed, gently pulling his hand from hers, and running it awkwardly through his hair.

"Perhaps it'd be better if you joined him for dinner," he said.

She groaned, "I don't understand why he's upset! He practically pushed me to engage with you!"

Alistair shook his head, "I'm not sure it's you he's particularly upset with. But please, go have dinner with him. It will make him feel better."

She sighed, "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. A couple of hours and I'll feel... scarred, but in working order," he grinned, showing her the quickly healing burns from under the tatters of his linen shirt. At last she allowed herself to be persuaded, and slowly got up from her lover's side. Alistair watched her walk away slowly, before his eyes fell to the form of Carver Hawke sleeping softly beside him. Entranced, he watched the slow rise and fall of the young man's chest, before stopping the last Surgeon working on his leg to ask him, "How is the other Warden doing?"

the surgeon followed his gaze, watching the same rhythmic rise and fall before responding.

"He's stable. You got him in just in time; we're expecting a full recovery, though I think he'd be better suited to stay out of the Summit until he can function properly again. Could take a few days, and with the Summit being held tomorrow, we'll keep him for observation to be safe."

Alistair nodded; it was a fair assessment, though he knew Carver would immediately fight it, were he awake and coherent.

"When can he take visitors?"

the surgeon shrugged, "As soon as he wakes up, I'd wager."

Alistair smiled, "Thank you friend. I'm glad to hear you say that."

* * *

  
Meanwhile, Evinn's hand lay on the doorknob for what seemed like eternity as the Chargers showed him to the War Room in Haven. According to Bull's predictions, the advisors were busy at work planning a counter-strike against the Black City, and didn't know who officially was present for such a meeting. He suggested Evinn start there, if he wanted to re-establish his presence in a quick and concise manner; now, however, as Evinn stood behind the heavy door, he didn't feel sure about this plan. He turned to leave, when suddenly a dark, partially plaited head of hair nearly bumped into him.

A gasp caused Josephine to quake slightly, her slender hand flying to her lips.

"Oh Maker," she breathed, her wide-eyed stare meeting Evinn's with shock in equal measure, "He told us that he was working with magical fringe-theories-- and yet---"

Evinn had no response, instead standing there paralyzed by fear and thoroughly bewildered by Josephine's reaction.

After a moment of awkward silence, Josephine attempted to regain her composure. She cast a scrupulous eye over him, unsure of how to continue forward. After a moment, she sighed.

"In...Quisitor... Trevelyan?"

Dry mouthed, he nodded slowly. He found himself thoroughly unprepared as she rushed forward, throwing all political correctness aside and wrapped him in a friendly hug.

"It seems Dorian's magic worked," she said breathlessly, "And I'm unbelievably happy it did. It is so good to see you my friend."

Evinn's heart skipped a beat at the mention of his lover's name; was it truly Dorian's fault he and the others had been transported here? Finding his voice, Evinn worked up the courage to speak as they broke apart.

"Where is Dorian? Is he here?"

Josephine smiled to herself, "Where is he always, Inquisitor? He's in the library, with the other thinkers."

Evinn didn't bother to ask where the library was; Josephine was already starting toward the door of the war room decidely.

"Go to him. I will alert the others of your... shall we say, arrival. We will continue with the summit tomorrow as planned; but for tonight there is suddenly much to do."

And with that, she promptly disappeared behind the door with a heavy click. Evinn was left alone in the hall once more, confused and worried, looking around for some sort of sign or help.

Stepping back out into the night air, Evinn came upon Solas, rejoining the hustle of Haven in the evening. Evinn shook his head with a small smile, despite an inability to hide his exasperation.

"Any chance you might know where the library is here in Haven?" he called out to the elf. Solas grinned in answer, stepping up beside the Inquisitor and pointing to the north end of camp, "Actually, I do. Unlike you and the others, I was spit out fairly close to Haven, and I've had the luxury of being introduced."

Evinn quirked his head at this, "You have? What were you doing out in the caves, then?"

Solas shrugged, "What I do best, Inquisitor. Dreaming, and discovering more of this world's history in doing so."

He diverted Evinn's attention back to the north, "But for now, I think a visit with a certain mage is overdue."

With that, Solas led him hard by the shoulders to the edge of camp, where a stone building stood forlorn against the darkened night sky. Off in the distance against the pale moonlight, Evinn could see the dark outline of this world's Black City. He swallowed hard as he took in the sight; a massive, oppressive structure, towering over everything else and threatening to overwhelm the sky. That was where Corypheus now sat, and there was no denying his force was impressive, even here. Solas cleared his throat, bringing Evinn back into the present.

"Inquisitor, I'll be taking my leave now. There is something I must take care of before the Summit tomorrow."

Evinn nodded, clasping his hand firmly around Solas' elbow in thanks.

"You've been invaluable, friend," he sighed, "You have my thanks."

Solas smiled, inwardly pushing back against the sadness in his chest; if only it were true. If only he could say this was the only reason he'd sought to travel to this world, with it's similar history and players in fate.

Alas, that could not be said. But the one who denies their friend's truths is a fool, and thus he kept silent.

As Solas turned to leave, once more Evinn was left with a heart in his throat and a hand on a doorknob, wondering whether it was better to let himself in, or simply run away into the desert.


	14. There is Distance Between

**Dorian couldn't help but look up in exasperation** when the small elf woman stood in the pooled lamplight beside him, tentatively.

"Kaffas-- what is it, Merrill? I'm on the edge of a breakthrough," he sighed, raking his fingers through his disheveled hair. Merrill nervously clutched at the binding of a book between her fists, offput by an uncertain feeling. There was a stirring of the camp around them, and she could hear a clamoring beginning, the usual quiet in the night air replaced with a din that seemed to grow louder by the moment.

In actuality, even beyond all of the sound and strangeness, what really put her off was a stranger poking his head through the door of the library while only she and Dorian remained for the night. He'd begged her for an audience with Dorian, but when she responded that he didn't wish to be disturbed, he'd persisted-- said it was urgent, and that Dorian would be upset if he hadn't been told about this. And thus, coerced but still uncomfortable, Merrill had trudged back to the deepest corner of the library, where Dorian sat poring over books and equations like a man possessed.

Finally, Merrill cleared her throat, willing herself to get on with it, so the man would step out of the darkness behind her.

"There's someone here to see you. He wouldn't take no for an answer, and said if you didn't see him, you'd be angry with me for not letting him through."

Dorian chuckled dryly, "Rather pretentious of him, don't you think? I trust you said no, then,"

Merrill bit her lip, "As I said, he was very persistant. He's--"

"He'll take over from here, .... Merrill, was it? Thank you," a familiar voice caused a spike in Dorian's heart rate.

His throat was suddenly dry like the desert, and he struggled to breathe as a man he knew dead came slowly into view.

"A-Avanna*, Amatus..." The Tevene tumbled awkwardly off his tongue as Evinn looked on at his lover, a feeling of combined terror and relief washed over him. it was a juxtaposition that left him feeling frayed; terrified Dorian would react as Alistair had, but in the same breath relieved to see a familiar face.

"Fasta Vass," Dorian breathed, tearing himself away from the table his research was splayed across, quickly closing the distance between them, til he stood face to face with the Inquisitor. Evinn could tell in moments that Dorian was fighting back a rush of emotions, tears welling in the corners of his eyes as he took Evinn's cheeks in his hands, cupping his face and studying it for a moment, before finally speaking.

"I can't believe it. It worked."

Evinn looked back at Dorian, perplexed, as Merrill's hand clapped over her mouth in surprise.

* * *

 

"So yeah, the elf showed up here about a week ago, and sat down with all the thinkers here for the summit, and gave us a bright idea for dethroning the mutant," Varric shrugged, nursing a pint thoughtfully as he spoke.

Hawke seemed put off by the suggestion, "A week? Then that means he definitely didn't arrive around the same time we did..."

"Here's the thing," Varric nodded, "From what I've heard, he didn't even show up the same way as you guys. But, he made us promise we wouldn't tell the Inquisitor that he arrived first. Apparently he needs things to seem like he got here around the same time. But, now I guess that makes sense, if he's using another way to travel, then he may not want to put all his cards on the table right now."

Hawke sniffed as she considered.

"Well, maybe that gives us a way home, then," she affirmed Varric's sentiment with a slow nod. Everyone had secrets that needed keeping, and the elf was no different. It was disconcerting, however, to learn that there were more ways than one to arrive in such a place. That seemed to ring true with the way Anders and Justice had appeared as well; _just how were they going to get home?_

Varric interrupted her flurry of thoughts with a sigh.

"Still, with Pavus being a Necromancer, I thought for sure you'd just be coming back from the dead," Varric scoffed, draining the rest of his pint in one go.

Hawke chuckled half-heartedly, "Would that be better?"

Varric grumbled into his glass, "I don't know... Almost," before standing once more.

"I need another drink. Can I buy you another round?"

"Hell will undoubtedly break loose tomorrow, so sure-- why not enjoy tonight," Hawke smirked, though her heart beat painfully at the comment he'd made previously under his breath.

As he began to walk away, she couldn't help but sigh, "Varric, I may not be the Hawke you remember, but..... I am me."

He shook his head, "Believe me, I know that."

He stalked off and grabbed two more pints from the bartender, flashing a quick look in her direction. Of course he could tell it was her; from the long hair kept in a loose binding at her shoulders, to the way she leaned against the counter as she drank, even down to the way she propped her knees up against the chair beneath her. Everything was the way he remembered, up to the day she'd died. Something welled in his chest, and he felt it press painfully against his ribcage. All the guilt and regret from that day was making a comeback at the least opportune moment. He made his way swiftly back to the table, slamming the drinks down and turning to exit the bar.

"I thought I could handle this, but it turns out I'm going to need a moment," he managed, before leaving her alone to quietly contemplate just what she'd done.

At that moment Anders and Janna entered the bar, avoiding Varric as he sped past and into the darkness beyond them. Catching sight of Hawke sitting alone and drinking, they decided to join her briefly, if only to enquire as to what had happened.

"He left in quite a hurry," Janna managed, motioning to the door.

"Yeah, I tend to have that effect on people," Hawke sighed, looking glumly at the grain of the dirty table. She seemed to shrink into herself, drawing her knees to her chest and leaning back in the chair. Anders reached out subconsciously, setting a hand on her shoulder.

"Hawke...."

"Let me be, Anders," she sighed, resolving to straighten herself out after a moment of wallowing, "I'm going to get the lay of the camp. Try to walk off all this--" she motioned to herself, "Feeling business. I'll find you all later tonight."

Anders and Janna watched in silence as she slunk away, and beyond the heavy wooden door of the tavern. Anders took her place, slumping in the chair looking quite deflated.

"What is going on with you, Anders?" Janna asked, scooping up what was previously Varric's beer without a second thought.

Anders glared up from his seat at her.

"You don't really want to dredge up ancient drama, do you?"

When she nodded, he finally sighed and opened up.

"There was almost something between us, alright? She kissed me one night after we were all drunk and mistakes were made*. Apparently at that point she'd already been sleeping with _him_ , but they were still in the business of denying things were ever going on."

he sighed, waving a server down and ordering whatever was strongest on the menu. She obliged, and as she walked away, he continued, "To be fair, they've been denying it, and will keep denying it forever, but... I had a kindredship with her I've never had with anyone else; not even you, and you're one of my few true friends in all this. I think Justice scared her off, but if things had been just a bit different, then..."

Janna nodded, "Then you wouldn't be such a jealous mess, is what you're saying."

Her words came out biting harder than she'd meant, but the sentiment rang true. Anders glare melted to a sad, betrayed look, though he opted to try and hide behind humor as usual.

"I'm pathetic, aren't I? Pining after things that weren't mine to begin with."

"If she kissed you, doesn't that mean she led you on?" Janna wanted clarification, her interest slightly peaked. Matters of the heart were hard enough when not ambiguous.

Anders shook his head, clarifying, "No, it was my fault. I could see we were both hurting and we were all pretty drunk. I took advantage of the situation and dared her to do so. I didn't know she'd try to use it to make him jealous, but... She certainly didn't instigate it." **

Janna sighed, giving Anders a comforting pat on the back.

"It's too bad, Anders. You deserve someone who treats you right."

he chuckled glumly into his beer, "I think that's just the kindness you always conjure up talking, Commander. But who knows, the world has thrown crazier setups in our direction."

Janna took a drought, thoughtfully.

"If we find a way home... will you come back through with us? To Thedas?"

he contemplated a moment, glancing at his warden friend.

"I'm not sure... While I miss the charms of our home world, I can't deny that I've helped rebuild this place, at least a little bit. Besides, there I'm a fugitive!" He shook his head, continuing, "Where would I go? What would I do?"

Janna shrugged, "Well, you could always come with me. Alistair and I have been looking for a cure to the taint, and last I heard he was called back to Ferelden, so I'm on my own scouring records and who knows what else... He won't tell me what's going on, but told me to keep looking anyway, in the last letter... In any case, I could use the company."

Anders chuckled at the idea.

"I'm not sure he'd like it if another ruddy man started following his lovely companion around."

"Please. By now he knows my penchant for picking up world-weary travelers. Besides," she cast a glance across the tavern, to where her eyes laid rest on the forms of Oghren and Nathaniel, chuckling and drinking with each other in the din, "Everyone seems to manage to find their way back to me somehow."

"In one way or another," Anders agreed kindly. He took a deep breath.

"At least promise me you'll think about it?"

* * *

 

_Shit. Of all the nug-sucking ways that could have gone--_

Varric ran a hand through his strawberry locks, cursing and spitting into the night air.

He'd imagined the impossible reunion between them so many times before, and every one of those scenarios had been so much smoother. But now, in this moment, he was feeling the weight of so much built up, compounded guilt he couldn't breathe.

Guilt. Guilt from his parent's relocation from Orzammar, something he'd always wanted to make them proud for. The loss of his brother's sanity and Hawke's brother's induction to the Grey Wardens, which inadvertantly caused the current fate of Carver Hawke, confined to a sick bay bed and a seat on the sidelines to the biggest battle since the defeat of the Arch Demon Urthemiel. Both caused by the crazy trip they'd planned to go into the belly of the beast. But even beyond that.

Guilt over Hawke's untimely death. She'd taken the fire for his sake-- gave her life to save his sorry skin. Sure, now he helped the Inquisition, but he didn't sleep at night, and certainly didn't eat right, unless Daisy or Rivaini were around to force him to.

And now that Hawke was here-- alive, and tangible, in a place where he could make amends, it wouldn't even matter.

She wasn't the same Hawke. Any apology he made would fall on deaf ears. He could never make amends, never redeem himself in her eyes.

He spat again.

_Andraste's tits and teeth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (-Avanna = Hello in Tevene)  
> (**this is backstory info from Star-Crossed What-If's, another of my stories)


	15. Impending Hour

**Dorian was stunned, blinking at a maddening pace in the darkness of the library.**

"M-Merrill.... I'm sorry, but, would you be willing to--"

Seeing Dorian so speechless was new to both Merrill and Evinn as they both watched the mage become thoroughly engulfed in thought. His mind was going at maximum capacity as his eyes lit up in the lantern light.

Merrill nodded with a small smile, feeling like the message he desired to convey came through for the most part.

"I'll let you two be alone then," she said quietly, and with a small nod she departed.

Suddenly alone, Evinn drew his arms to his chest tightly, watching with slight discomfort as Dorian assessed him up close and personally. His hand buzzed in the back of his mind, the pain never quite subsiding but lying just beneath the surface as a dull ache and a prickle at the base of his spine. Dorian caught sight of the bandage wrapping the mark immediately, and pried Evinn's hand away from his defensive position to look at it.

The green cracks in his palm radiated ever so slightly as the linen was loosened, and Dorian looked on, fascinated.

"This.... This is new," he breathed.

Evinn shook his head.

"Dorian-- I don't think I came here the way you think I did, Amatus."

Dorian quirked an eyebrow in answer, looking his lover up and down, "Oh? And just how did you get here, exactly?"

Evinn led Dorian back to the desk, gently guiding the mage to take a seat once more. He began to explain what he knew of the situation, speaking about the rift, the difference between their worlds, and how his mark had originally come to be. The mention of the orb made a fire light in Dorian's belly, as he scrambled to gather a quill and paper, momentarily shushing Evinn as he wrote down what was told to him. Once the thoughts were gathered, he urged Evinn to continue, listening intently and scratching down seemingly relevant information.

Finally when all was revealed, Evinn waited in silence for confirmation from Dorian. Something-- anything, to show that he may believe the implausible tale.

When all he received was a shift in Dorian's position, accompanied by a scoffing chuckle, he was crestfallen.

"You don't believe me, do you..."

Dorian ran a hand through his hair, smearing the thin layer of sweat that had accumulated on his hairline as his lover spoke.

"On the contrary, Amatus. I believe you without question."

This caught Evinn by surprise. He pressed for more of an answer, but watched as instead, Dorian began scribbling fervently once more on the parchment in front of him.

"I'm simply baffled by the way things turned out. The Maker does have an interesting sense of humor," Dorian elaborated as he wrote.

"How so?" came Evinn's response.

Dorian chuckled once more, "Another unknown visitor came to camp a little while ago, and provided us with a fresh perspective, which led us to a breakthrough in the spell that I originally believed brought you here. Now that I learn that that wasn't the case, I wonder if the spell didn't simply react with your mark in unexpected ways? Ahh but if magic isn't the most fickle thing..."

Evinn seemed perplexed. _Another visitor? But if the magic had been put into place before their arrival, then who--_

The door of the library burst open as an unfamiliar elf scanned the room. When the two of them caught her eye, she straightened up quickly, and regarded them in a   
voice touched with nerves.

"Serrah Pavus? And..."

Dorian seemed more annoyed than surprised, "Yes girl, spit it out."

She flinched ever so slightly, and Evinn, feeling bad for the poor girl who was clearly uncomfortable with the current state of events, placed a hand gently on Dorian's shoulder to quiet him. He tried addressed the girl in a softer tone.

"What's going on?"

She gathered her nerves once more, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"The War Counsel desires to have everyone of note in attendance. It seems something big has happened and we need to gather our thoughts."

Evinn nodded, keeping composure as he replied, "We understand. We'll--"

Dorian interrupted him, standing from his seat and making his way toward the door, "Tell them we'll be there shortly. Thank you."

He gave the girl no time for a reply as he promptly ushered her out of the room and shut the door. He rounded to face Evinn, stepping back to the corner of the library once more.

"Shouldn't we--"

Dorian had quickly claimed the distance between them, throwing his arms around Evinn's neck and leaning the two of them heavily against the back wall. Evinn's legs threatened to give out beneath them as Dorian's full weight crashed into him and held him pinned. Dorian was having none of it, however, and attempted to help the mage gain his footing once more, while at the same time covering any piece of visible flesh with feverish, wanting kisses. Evinn's eyes closed as he drank in the mage's familiarity, before coming to his senses and clapping his hands on Dorian's shoulders, placing some distance between them.

"Dorian--" he exclaimed, unsure of how to process how he was feeling. His eyes traveled the Tevinter's face, noticing the small tears that began to tremble past his thick lashes, leaving thin, wet trails on his cheeks.

Though he attempted to keep composure, Evinn could hear the wavering in his voice as he simply replied, "Amatus. You left me alone for three cycles, and have just appeared out of the blue in the middle of the night. I'm having a bit of trouble processing this, so please.... Allow me this moment of weakness..."

Hesitating only a moment longer, Evinn wrapped Dorian's small frame close to his own as the Tevinter buried his face in Evinn's shoulder to drink in his scent.

* * *

The couple emerged from the library a few moments later, noticing as the camp rallied around them. Swarms of people began to whisper as they walked past, Dorian's hand clasping around Evinn's, and leading him forward as the whispers became a dull roar.

"Glad you could finally join us, Dorian," Cassandra's heavy accent clipped her words as they approached and she caught sight of the one he linked hands with. Evinn dragged slightly behind, clearly uncomfortable with the uproar that was occurring around him.

The quiver in Cassandra's voice was undeniable, however, as she simply sighed, "When Josephine told me you had arrived, I didn't believe it to be true. If you are here, then I'm not sure if its a blessing, or..."

Dorian scoffed, stepping aside to allow Cassandra a better look at her former friend.

"Relief or fear, confirm what you must so we can move on."

His tone was harsh, but Evinn could tell he was simply overcompensating for the mix of emotions he was feeling himself.

Cassandra was about to step forward, when a muscled arm and mop of curls thrust himself between them.

"Wait just a moment," Cullen barked, "Does it occur to no one that this could be a trap?"

Hawke stepped out from the crowd, to intercept the ex-templar's bluster.

"Talk to Alistair, _Commander_ ," She huffed, pointing to the sick bay, "He's traveled with us for a bit and can confirm. Inquisitor Trevelyan is the real thing."

The furrowed brow and rapid blinking told Hawke that the curly haired knight remembered her, and that if he did know of her in this world, then her testimony could mean absolutely nothing.

_Shit._

"Serrah Hawke?"

_Shit._

"I'm afraid they're not the only surprises," Janna sighed as she stepped forward, her fingers closing around the bridge of her nose, knowing that clearly now was the time to act in solidarity with her fellow travelers.

"Warden Commander Cousland?"

The disbelief in Cullen's voice was palpable.

"It's good to see you again, Cullen," she nodded, "Though I didn't expect you to use my formal title."

Her eyes scanned the crowd, however, as she looked for a different target-- she'd been told that Leliana was here. She located the familiar rogue just in front of the rough-hewn building to their right. Their eyes met for a brief moment, but Leliana showed no signs of emotion, positive or negative, as she turned to re-enter the structure. The people around them began all conversing in unison, their voices erupting in a shower of questions and confusion, until Cullen called for order.

"People! We will reconvene in the morning, holding the Summit as scheduled. For the time being, we urge you to stay calm! All will be explained in due time, I'm sure."

The crowd slowly began to dissipate, as agents of the Inquisition ushered people off to their respective places, leaving only the travelers and those of particular note to stand in front of the war room.

"I expect there's an explanation for us," Cullen remarked, looking over the visitors with slight distaste.

"If you'll hear it," Hawke griped, before Evinn and Janna shot her a warning look.

Together, they allowed themselves to be ushered into the war room, Janna advising that someone go to collect Alistair, if he was in any shape to leave the sick bay.  
  
Surprisingly, it was Morrigan who stepped up behind her, clasping her shoulder gently before stating she'd be more than happy to collect him, and leaving Janna in stunned silence. To have Morrigan approach her without warning was one thing, but to have her volunteer to talk to the one person she hated most was quite another. Still, what left Janna all the more mystified was seeing a small, dark haired boy with undeniably recognizable features trailing behind her. Janna's heart throbbed painfully as she realized; in her world, that child would have been the baby with the Old God's soul... _Just what purpose did he hold in this world?_

The question remained unanswered however as the door swung shut on its hinges, and the two disappeared out of sight.

* * *

 


	16. Doom Upon All the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bit of a short chapter, setting up for some conflict!

**The war room was a dingy building, with a long slab of rock serving as the tactical map toward the back of the room.** lines and shapes were made with charcoal over the map of the colonies etched into the soft stone's surface. Agents of the Inquisition, and Evinn's previous companions were all present, listening to Leliana's tactical advice, lilting off her tongue in soft tones.

"You. Nug-licking Arsehole."

Sera's voice stuck out like a sore thumb before Evinn could register she was there. When he found her amongst the group, however, he found the scowl on her face didn't budge even slightly.

"Bugger what they said when they told me they were bringing you back-- I told 'em the dead don't rise that easy!"

"Sera," he began, but an angry shake of her head caused him to fall silent.

"No! You're not who they're saying you are. The dead don't rise that easy!"

She was adamant, repeating her statement firmly.

It was Dorian's turn to interrupt the girl now, clearing his throat quietly.

"You were right after all, Sera. He's not who we thought he was. The dead <don't> rise that easily."

This gave her some pause. She quirked an eyebrow in Dorian's direction, clearly taken aback.

"He's not then?"

"Does that surprise you? You've been telling us from day one not to get our hopes up."

"Sera-- Everyone-- allow me to explain..." Evinn tried gently.

Leliana cleared her throat gently, "I'm afraid any explanation will have to wait a moment. You see, you being here is not the biggest of our concerns at the moment."

Evinn, Hawke and Janna seemed genuinely surprised by this new information. The three of them exchanged nervous glances, as Cullen shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"What's going on, then?" Evinn managed to ask, despite the sudden dryness in his throat.

* * *

Morrigan was surprised at how easily she found herself slipping quietly into the sick bay. She thought she might have more trepidation-- be filled with more dread, to look upon the face of the father of her child. But, nonetheless she let herself in, and found the man she seeked dozing gently in a cot in the furthest corner of the room.

She lit a fire in the dirty fireplace to their left before stepping slowly toward her intended target. Her hand hovered over his shoulder, unsure of how to go about starting their interaction. His voice startled her, nonetheless, when he broke the silence.

"Come to finish the job, then?"

"Finish what job?" She scoffed, stepping away from the brawny warden, "Your wounds are far past being fatal."

"Tell that to my aching leg," He sighed, finally opening his eyes and sitting up.

They locked in cold eye contact for some time, before Alistair ventured a question, "What brings you here then? Come to kick your least favorite Warden while he's down?"

"Please! As if I'd be so petty."

Now Morrigan was having trouble bringing herself to the point. Kieran still stood quietly behind her, watching intently. She realized now that it may not have been the best decision to have brought him with her. She motioned to him briefly.

"Kieran, be a good boy and let them know we'll be there shortly."

He did as he was bid, and the child departed without so much as a word. Alistair's eyes followed as Kieran left, his hardened gaze becoming soft and surprised.

"Is that--"

his voice was weak, nearly defeated.

"That is your son, yes." Morrigan corrected him, finishing the thought with a sense of finality. He looked up at her in bewilderment. He fumbled over words for a moment, before the thought formed on his tongue, and he couldn't stop it from coming out.

  
"He's beautiful."

"Yes, as most children in my bloodline tend to be," Morrigan smirked, "Though it was a wonder that he came out the way he did with you as a father."

"Morrigan--" The sharpness in Alistair's voice gave her a brief moment of pause.

"I understand your feelings of conflict, Warden," She sighed, "But now is not the time to process your feelings on the subject. Suffice it to say that life is not fair, and I don't have time to play nursemaid to you as well as my own son. I've come to collect you for questioning about your involvement in the current state of affairs with our unwelcome visitors."

"You mean Janna, and the others?"

The name stung more than Morrigan liked to admit. She had begrudgingly allowed herself to grieve so long ago that now seeing Janna in person had been far more jarring than she'd hoped. Even hearing her name used in conversation so casually, after being avoided for so long, was enough to throw Morrigan off the path of serenity she'd carved out for herself.

"Yes, well, them.... And our other visitor."

This caught Alistair by surprise.

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

At that moment, the door of the sick bay was thrown open, as Stitches and the other medical advisors rushed in, carrying a dwarven woman strung haphazardly over their shoulders. A familiar duster rushed beside them, the gravelly voice roaring unmistakably above the sudden din.

"I swear on the Maker, I'll have your ass for this, Bianca!"

* * *

Leliana explained as succinctly as she could, "A prominent mechanic of Orzamaar, Bianca Davri, came forward several months ago and let us know that she, and the other heads of Orzamaar mistakenly signed the contract that started the trade embargo with the Black City, and she's been trying to make amends ever since. She's sent us many things, including plans for vehicle updates that will put us ahead of them technologically, as well as tapping their radio frequencies and reporting back relevant information."

Hawke's mind was spinning, unable to process the information she was being given.

_Bianca? As in THAT Bianca?_

Leliana continued, "The most recent news, however, has come with dire consequences. Her reports state that her passing of information has been discovered, and she was last reported on the run to Haven about two hours ago. Her vehicle was badly damaged by a warband trailing her, but--"

The door to the war room swung open to reveal a head of white-blonde hair, partially obscured by a high-brimmed hat.

"She's here, and she's safe--" Cole called, interrupting Leliana with an impassioned shout.

_Here?!_

Hawke suddenly found it hard to breathe, slumping into the nearest vacant seat and placing her head between her hands.

Leliana addressed Cole crossly, "Thank you, Cole. Make sure she is comfortable-- we'll be there to speak with her shortly."

Cole turned and left, letting the war room settle into tense silence once more.

Waiting for any further interruption a moment longer, Leliana gave a heavy sigh.

"What is more concerning, however, was the information she passed on just before she was discovered. It seems that, with Alistair and the other loyal Wardens removed from Denerim, Anora has appointed a new Warden Commander-- a senior officer named Clarel. Clarel has decided it in their best tactical interests to have Denerim, and the remaining Wardens, join Orzamaar in the embargo against the other colonies."

Cries of shock and outrage echoed from the collection of companions around the hall. Leliana called out, attempting to regain order.

"People, people-- I urge you to be calm about this!"

Evinn stepped forward, his tactical mind whirring into action.

"Leliana," he stated firmly, "We need to speak to this Bianca as soon as possible. We need to know the specifics of the Warden's treaty with the Black City."

"That can be arranged, Inquisitor," she nodded, "In the meantime, we need all hands on deck. Everyone to your posts-- we'll establish a watch list within the hour! If the Wardens have signed on as another arm of the Black City's fighting force, an attack could be all but expected."

A word of assent spread through the Inquisition ranks, and the group splintered in a matter of moments, leaving Janna, Evinn, and Hawke alone with Evinn's advisors once more.


	17. Oncoming Storm

**Hawke felt numb as the others spoke around her.** It didn't register with her that Kieran had come quietly through the door to report that Morrigan would arrive soon with Alistair in tow, to help verify their story to the Inquisition Advisors.

She was in shock. She couldn't believe it; didn't want to. There had always been a layer of seperation between her and Varric's mystery woman-- it helped make what they were doing with each other seem like less of an.... abomination. She knew her by name alone-- but now, to hear that she was close enough to finally meet, sent Hawke into an internal conflict that left her feeling frayed, and sick to her stomach. The others didn't seem to notice, in their own panic, as she crumpled smaller and smaller, her vision tunneling and her breath coming in fitful gasps, until a hand on her back began coaxing her quietly.

"She needs air,"

The voice was reedy and quiet, and yet, it willed the din in the room to cease. The others watched as Hawke was practically scooped up, and Evinn managed to ask, "Cole, what's going on?" as they passed.

"She needs a moment to process," was all he replied, before the heavy door slammed behind them.

Cole deposited Hawke on the furthest side of the building, away from the noise of the camp as Inquisition members scrambled up turrets to watch towers, the camp brimming with life even in the dead of night. He bent over her, protectively, removing his large brimmed hat and placing it on her head softly.

"Breathe," he urged, "Process. It's going to be all right, now."

Hawke concentrated on taking deep, slow breaths for a moment. As silly as it felt, the hat helped block the rest of the world from her, if only momentarily. Her stomach stopped quaking, and her vision cleared; she calmed down after a while, and Cole sat in front of her, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"You're feeling better," he said, beaming with approval as he lifted the hat's brim to look at her.

"Yes, thank you....?"

"My name is Cole."

"Cole," She repeated, quietly.

He nodded.

Suddenly feet wrapped in black boots and linens stepped into view, and Hawke caught sight of Anders for the first time since they'd been in the bar. He cast a confused glance over Cole, before looking at Hawke with worry etched in his face.

"Are you all right? The others said a spirit--"

"I'm all right, Anders. This boy helped get me some air, is all." Hawke cut in, nearly reprimanding Anders for assuming the worst.

"Grating anger-- like rust eating through chains... Justice? No, Vengeance..."

Cole seemed on edge as the two made their exchange. Anders wheeled on the spirit, hearing the accusation in his commentary, "What would you know of Vengance and Justice, _Compassion_?"

The exchange caught Hawke off guard.

"Anders? Cole? What's going on?"

"This 'Cole' is not what he seems, Hawke," Anders spat.

Cole's eyes opened wide as saucers, and he placed his hands in front of him.

"Forget!" he said firmly, disappearing from view, only to reappear high above them on the turret to their left.

Hawke seemed dazed, sitting eerily quiet in the dirt at the base of the building, wondering what she'd just been doing, with Anders looking shocked and borderline outraged at the situation. He watched as Cole padded silently around the turret above them, confused by the spirit's agility.

He sighed, shaking his head.

"Are you all right, Hawke?"

She paused, processing the question. Physically, she was fine. Emotionally?

"I need a drink, Anders. A very strong drink."

* * *

 

"Varric, I'm fine. There's no need to mother hen."

Varric muttered darkly under his breath as Bianca scooted out of his reach, giving him a devilish wink.

"I outran them, even with a busted fuel line. I lost them in the canyons-- It would be almost impossible for them to have followed me."

_Bianca seemed cocksure as ever._

"They know you worked with us now," He managed through gritted teeth, "Its only a matter of time before they're knocking on our doorstep. Not to mention when I found out that _you_ were the one who sold us out to the Black City in the first place, I---"

"No doubt you wanted to skin me alive right then and there," She finished for him, casting a sad look in his direction, "I know, Varric. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. We didn't know what we were signing at the time."

He shook his head, "You never were one to read things through."

"We did read it through!" she protested, "And it was airtight! ... It just turns out it was airtight in ways we hadn't anticipated."

Varric snorted, despite his anger. _Sure sounded like old times, all right._

"This is serious, Bianca," he groaned.

"Believe me, Varric... I know. I wouldn't run away from my forge, my machine shop-- or Bogdan-- unless I had to."

The mention of her husband's name gripped Varric's stomach for a moment in a tight knot.

_Shit._

He thought he was over this by now.

"The Inquisition will want a full report," he said stonily, getting up to leave.

"I know, Varric, and I intend to give them one," she said, her eyes following the muscular line of his back.

"Its.... Good to see you."

Her voice cut through the fog of his thoughts and tugged at his heart strings.

"Yeah; I wish it were under better circumstances," he sighed.

* * *

 

Evinn and Janna sat in silence as Cassandra paced around the room, her mind racing. Cullen and Leliana sat near each other, eyes roaming between the two remaining dead heroes, and Dorian, who trailed behind Evinn, quietly. Josephine seemed the only calm presence in the room, preparing a glass of wine for each present, even managing to hum a lively tune as she set to work.

"Come now-- Things are not all lost yet," she chided, approaching everyone in turn with the wine and a sincere smile. Dorian echoed the sentiment, gravitating back toward his lover with quiet resolution.

Anders opened the door next, guiding Hawke back into the room, her ears burning as she said nothing in recognition to what happened previously. The others seemed as though they elected to ignore the interruption as well, awkward, whispered conversations breaking up between the groups of people strewn about the war room.

At last, unable to hold her curiosity, Leliana addressed the former Warden Commander.

"So, I'm to understand that you are... her?"

The sentence was odd; ill-fitting, and unlike the Leliana Evinn knew.

However, it was eerily similar to the Leliana Janna once knew, and she nodded with a small smile.

"Its me, Sister," she said, quietly.

Leliana seemed to blush at the reply, "No one's called me 'sister' like that in a long time. Many things have changed, since then..." Her wistful tone seemed to harden as she finished that thought, taking a deep drought of the wine on hand.

Alistair and Morrigan entered the room shortly after, and the travelers set to work outlining their story. Evinn showed the mark with a grimace-- constantly wrapping and unwrapping it had caused it to begin to ache beyond the dull itch in the back of his mind. He made a mental note to speak to Solas on the subject later-- when he <wasn't> in Dorian's presence, if possible.

While Evinn was outlining his story and the facts he'd previously relayed, Dorian revealed his own notations, tying in factors important to the Inquisition advisors, and the threats specific to their world; the orb, currently mounted as a hood ornament on the mutant Corypheus' modified archdemon rig, and the red lyrium-fed warriors they'd been tangling with-- all things that tied directly into Evinn's story. Evinn warned about the power of the orb, speaking about the rift they'd opened in Denerim. Alistair nodded along with grim satisfaction, confirming when asked to.

When prompted, Dorian began a rudimentary explanation of the fringe theory they'd been working with to bring back their dead inquisitor. Most of it went over their heads, but it seemed to be confirmed that for whatever reason, the magic's leylines interacted with the mark in ways strong enough to uproot them from their world.

Finally, the conversation faded, and all faced each other with grim determination.

"I apologize if I sound unfeeling after all of the pain we've caused, but there must be a way we can use this to our advantage," Cassandra mulled, after a moment of silence, "We reached out to you for a purpose."

Janna seemed upset by the statement, her eyebrows stitched as her anger showed clearly on her face.

"What can we gain by helping you? If I'm understanding you correctly, we were ripped from our world simply to better yours."

When no answer came for her, angry tears clouded her vision.

"Of course," She seethed, "I'm being dragged into yet another war for someone else's skin without my permission."

Alistair looked on at her helplessly from across the room.

_Surely you don't mean that..._

the door to the war room slammed open as Blackwall thundered into view.

"Enemy war band spotted south of us-- they're about 30 miles* away."

Cullen slammed on the war table, "That doesn't give us a lot of time. Do we have a count on how many?"

Blackwall nodded, "Medium-sized band; looks like a few four-seaters, and at least one big rig."

"They're getting more daring," Leliana mused.

"Perhaps its time we made them regret their boldness," came Blackwall's reply, with a determined grin.

Decidedly, everyone left the war room to their assigned tasks. As Inquisition soldiers raced around to prepare for the coming battle, the travelers found themselves in an odd place. No one asked them to help; they were very nearly ignored until most of the vehicles had been lined up near the gates, the already decided partners loading into their vehicles in earnest.

Alistair's damaged Griffon seemed in working order once again, though it was riddled with holes from the arrows he'd been stuck with previously.

"Didn't have time to get the new metal plating on," Dagna sighed, wiping oil from her forehead with the back of one gloved hand, "She purrs, though, and that's what counts."

The Griffon sat driver-less and abandoned as the remaining partner-less bands paired up.

Varric stocked quickly over to claim a bike, having it nearly be taken by another set of familiar faces; Cole and Sera threatened to pry it from his hands.

"Oy, gerroff Varric! Don't think you can even reach the pedals!" Sera griped, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Who am I supposed to ride with, then?" Varric shot back, "I work better alone, and mobile! You know that."

It was now Cole's turn to interject, "Take the Hawk."

_The Hawk? Oh, shit._

Varric chanced a glance behind him as the other carts began heading through Haven's gates.

Dorian had quickly claimed the only other bike, mounting it easily and helping Evinn climb onto the back. They shot off through the gates, and up the dune ahead of them toward the coming battle.

Blackwall stomped beyond him as well, arguing with Janna about taking Anders but not her. Finally, he relented, "I'll teach you what I can while we're riding, but this is a war-- we can't devote attention to you learning in the heat of battle!"

"You need a tinker, and my friend here is who you get!" Janna thundered, "If you take him, you'll take me too. I'm a quick study, I'll learn on the way."

Anders made no protest; he simply followed the two bickering wardens and climbed to the mounted station atop their vehicle as they started up and began to leave.

Varric was quickly left with very few stragglers, and a very confused looking Hawke. The keys to Alistair's warmachine were perched on the hood of the vehicle, leaving him very little choice.

Groaning, he swung Bianca over his shoulder and ran to claim the vehicle.

"Hawke, we're leaving now," he barked, swiping the keys and wrenching open the door with a loud creak.

Numbly, Hawke followed; Varric wasn't necessarily who she wanted to see right now either, but the fact remained they were all each other had at the moment. _If nothing else, the fight will be a distraction_ , she sighed to herself as she climbed in the back of the vehicle.

Varric turned the key and the engine roared to life. He revved it a few times to be sure, and when it responded easily, he began their exit from the Colony's walls.

* * *

 

 


	18. The Waiting Game

**As the adventurers departed to defend the Colony** , Alistair sat in the war room with Leliana and the others, planning a defensive strategy; it wasn't ideal for him, especially seeing the anger Janna left with, but he knew now that he must act in allegiance with Haven, if there was to be any success with his movement of the loyal wardens there.

As soon as they were able, the council summoned Bianca, and talks began about what she knew when it came to the Denerim treaty.

* * *

 

As Dorian and Evinn raced over the dune towards the canyonscape beyond, Evinn found himself gripping the other mage tightly; their vehicle seemed propelled on sheer will alone, and how they managed to stay upright he didn't know.

Dorian's chuckle was lost in the wind as he felt Evinn's arms tighten around his waist. He took a hand off the handlebars as they slowed and paused, surveying the landscape and giving Evinn's hand a gentle pat.

"There's no reason to fear, Amatus," he smiled, "On this, I have full control. I will protect you."

Those words he'd heard before gave a little quake to Evinn's stomach. He nodded sheepishly from behind his lover; was his fear that evident? He felt the shocks bounce as Dorian kicked out the stand from below the bike once again, and clasped his arms back around the Tevinter's middle. They took off like a shot once more, the little bike's engine roaring as they gathered speed.

  
Meanwhile, Hawke sat behind Varric saying nothing as they cruised along, Varric making wide arcs through the dunes looking for stragglers. The radio was ablaze with chatter; different carts of the warband checking in, requesting status updates, and generally filling the empty space as they waited in anticipation.

Finally, when Varric could take the silence no more, he glanced at her from the rearview mirror.

"Can you jump up and check the horizon for me?" He asked, patting the roof of the vehicle softly. Hawke nodded, unbuckling her seat belt and scrambling out the back, snaking her way up to the lookout post above.

She marveled at the signature Dagna addition to the cart; a skylight was freshly cut into the roof of the vehicle. Noting how she could see directly below to Varric, she caught herself remarking, "Well that's new."

Varric ignored the comment, instead asking, "Anything out there?"

Refocusing on her task, Hawke scanned the horizon. Far off in the distance she noted multiple sets of headlights, all headed to one pinpoint; a mountain-scape climbing into the distance.

"They're ahead, but they're far away," she noted, shouting down into the skylight. Varric nodded before prodding, "What direction?"

Hawke fumbled, "North? East? What direction are we facing? Toward the mountains."

Varric snorted, unable to keep it to himself, "You've always been terrible at directions."

"And you've never known when to shut up," Hawke laughed, swiping a hand down through the hole to playfully tap the back of the dwarf's head.

"Careful! I'm driving here!"

Varric found that while he didn't manage to avoid Hawke's hand as the car careened forward, it seemed she'd changed her intent from a firm and playful slap, to instead running her fingers through his hair.

Truthfully, it seemed more of an instinct than anything else, but the motion caused the hairs to raise on the back of his neck.

Awkward silence overtook them once again, The two listening intently to the radio as they drove onward. Slowly Hawke withdrew her hand, leaning against the covered lookout post and feeling the cool night air whip around her as they drove on.

Soon there would be battle and chaos, and she knew she must be present of mind for that; but for now the only thing she could focus on was the familiar hollow ache in  
her chest.

* * *

 

The first of the Inquisition warband sat on a hill overlooking the Black City warband at last, their headlights extinguished as they waited for their reinforcements to arrive. Dorian pulled up beside Sera and Cole, giving them a nod. Cole acknowledged them quietly, gripping the handlebars of his motorbike tightly.

Sera, meanwhile, sat back to back with the spirit with her feet dangling off the back of the bike, tightening the fletching and sharpening the heads of her arrows absent-mindedly.

When she realized Evinn was watching, however, she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Never thought you'd see me with 'im, eh?" She chuckled softly, nodding toward Cole. Evinn agreed, quietly.

"Listen. He's not my first choice-- bein' all... weird an' all, but... He gets me face first into the action, right? He's sneaky enough that as long as he doesn't say anything off-- then we're peachy."

Evinn smiled. _Good old Sera. Not above making mischief as usual._

Dorian suddenly put up a hand to quiet them. Evinn looked toward what Dorian pointed to, his eyes straining to focus into the darkness.

"Alexius," Dorian growled, hands dropping to angry fists at his sides. Evinn looked at his lover, then followed his gaze to the largest vehicle in the warband below them.

"You're sure it's him?" Evinn asked quietly.

With a nod, Dorian turned and got back on his bike. Unhooking a radio transceiver from its holster, he began a pointed report of their location, advising all hands be aware that Alexius was leading the warband.

A few miles behind them, Blackwall was the first to receive the message, and radioed back his confirmation.

  
Janna concentrated as they drove on in silence, watching as Blackwall operated the vehicle-- the steady way he adjusted the wheel when steering, trying even to gauge how much pressure he used when operating the pedals.

"Feel like you're getting it?" Blackwall inquired after another minute ticked by.

Janna nodded, embarassed he'd caught her watching so intently.

"What's your story, anyway? The both of you?" he asked, quirking his brow up as he glanced back at Anders.

Anders snorted, "What, haven't you heard the story? She's the Hero of Ferelden."

"Former Warden-Commander of .... well, Denerim, I guess," She corrected, shooting him a dirty look.

  
"Her, I know. What of you?" Blackwall asked, a slight severity creeping into his tone.

Anders chuckled, despite a wave of anxiety washing over him.

"Anders. Just an Apostate-- once a warden, and after that a thinker and healer for Kirkwall colony."

Blackwall seemed to relax after the introduction was made.

"Wardens, eh? I've always admired the Wardens," he sighed, nostalgia seeping through him, "I was actually on my way to join up with the Denerim colony, when the Inquisition recruited me."

Janna seemed surprised by this.

"Really? It's a shame the Inquisition got to you first, then; you would have made a fine warden," she chuckled.

Blackwall's grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"I'm not so sure of that, but thank you. It means a great deal to hear you say," he said quietly.

"Sometimes I do find it hard to imagine that some people want to willingly join the wardens though," Janna said, after a few moments of silence.

Blackwall cast a glance at her, "And why would that be? There's honor to be had with them. They do what's right-- what must be done."

Janna chuckled, "With proper leadership, perhaps, but... Most of my experience has been bumbling around and trying to do what we could to survive."

"Ah yes; I take it this has to do with your feelings of _being pulled into the war, and not volunteering yourself_ ," Blackwall said, slight sarcasm seeping through his words.

"If you must put it that way, then yes, it does," She said, her words twisting like the edge of a blade, "Unlike your desire of joining the wardens, I was forced into it. Politics killed my family and bade that the only way I survive be through the death sentence that is the Grey Wardens! Not to mention the fact that our commanding officer, and all other wardens save myself and Alistair, were killed in one fell swoop. It left us as the only two remaining wardens in the area to take on an impossible goal!"

Blackwall seemed taken aback.

"I'm sorry, my lady; I did not realize..."

Janna grit her teeth.

"We do what we have to, Ser. Idolize the wardens if you must, but know that your feelings may not be echoed throughout the ranks."

They advanced upon the hill with the other members of the Inquisition warband, extinguishing their headlights and killing the engine as they rolled into place.

"I wonder why the fighting hasn't started yet?" Blackwall mused to himself.

* * *

  
Varric wondered if Hawke's silence would last forever; He could tell something was wrong, but she hadn't breathed a word to him about it yet. He'd only ever seen her  
this emotionally wired once, when her mother was killed in front of her.

They continued to drive on over the dunes, the mountains looming dangerously in front of them as the night grew later, and the skyline grew lighter. He wondered if it would be a better idea for the Inquisition to strike while it was dark, or wait for the light of dawn? That seemed to be the current idea; Scouts stated that the plan would be to lead the Black City troops out of their entrenched position in the canyon, and into the sunlight, using everything to their advantage and hopefully squashing this attempt before it got too close to Haven.

Hawke's knees were hitched through sunroof, dangling absent-mindedly as they drove. She withdrew them quietly, however, to chance a look out over the mounted post, knocking quietly on the roof to get Varric's attention.

"We're coming up on the group. They're camped out just behind a dune-- about 2 miles ahead."

"Thanks," Varric sighed, watching as Hawke finally climbed back into the cab.

They reached the group in silence, Dorian giving Varric a nod hello. Varric replied in kind, giving a gruff, awkward wave in return.

They sat with the headlights turned off, engine quieting as the sand settled around them.

The silence was maddening.

_Just talk, damn it!_

"Hawke, are you...?" The question sounded so stupid.

She seemed genuinely amused by it, however.

"Am I what? Okay?"

"Well, yeah. Shit..."

"Why wouldn't I be okay? It's not like the last time I saw you, you couldn't deal with my being here, so you ran off on me, and didn't <ever> plan on addressing that, but..."

_Ouch. Should have realized that would be an issue_ , he mused.

"But no," Hawke continued, "That, I have _no_ problem with, actually. That's at least an understandable reaction, all things considered... No, what I'm having trouble with, is that I just found out that your _other_ Lady-friend came running to your arms, is waiting for you back at Haven-- and that I'll probably be _forced_ to meet her under some guise of a planning session for the upcoming war!"

Varric was stunned; he couldn't believe he hadn't put those pieces together. Suddenly her silence made sense.

"Oh. _Shit_."

Hawke shook her head, bitter, angry tears threatening to fall as she spoke.

"No kidding."

"I-- ... Shit."

Varric struggled with words for a moment.

"How... How can I make this better?"

"What?"

"Look, this whole situation is fucked up," He continued, "And I know I can't turn Bianca away; for the record, I had nothing to do with her coming to Haven... She's been corresponding with Haven for a while now, trying to make up for a fucked up deal she signed by accident, --" Hawke snorted, Varric giving her a look in protest, "--It was! And she knew the Inquisition would protect her if things went belly up. Which they did!"

When she offered no further resistance, he continued, "And yeah, I wasn't prepared for you to come back from the dead, or whatever the shit actually happened, so I reacted badly to that too, but... Look, I know I've fucked up. I want to make it up to you."

Varric turned as much as he could in the driver's seat to face her, and her heart began to beat faster.

"Hawke, when you died so much was left unsaid, I thought I was going crazy. Now that you're here, I... I've wanted to say so much, but--"

She swallowed hard, the pumping of her heart sounding like waves crashing in her ears.

"But all the things I want to say won't even matter anyway... Because you're not the Hawke who died in our place..."

She shook her head softly, a dry chuckle escaping her lips, "Who cares if I didn't die the same way? Don't you think I would have gladly given my life to save everyone anyway-- to save you?"

Her voice was so soft and sad as she spoke.

"If it'll make you feel better, then say it. If it'll get us back to normal, then please-- Maker, please, just say it, Varric."

"Hawke..."

The cab was suddenly tense, as the two came closer together.

"I've missed you so much..."

Her hands closed around his chin, cupping him gently as she guided them closer. Varric closed his eyes, breathing in the warmth of her, and her scent. Hawke bent forward to  meet the dwarf, her lips close enough to just brush against his own-- before an arrow careening towards them in a wide arc caught her eye.

"Get down!"


	19. Sunlit Firefight

**Suddenly everything was a frenzied motion;** bike engines whirred to life, the Inquisition forces scattering as a hail of flaming arrows rained down upon them. The first of the volleys threatened to shred the roof of their vehicle-- Hawke began casting a barrier as Varric threw the griffon into reverse, peeling out and getting out of the line of fire as quickly as he could manage.

The sun began to crest over the mountain as the Inquisition warband was pushed back into the desert by the Black City forces.

"Kaffas," Dorian swore as he gripped the bike's throttle tightly. It continued to barrel forward, engine screaming in protest as Evinn gripped the Tevinter tightly.

"Cast what you can for protection, Amatus," Dorian yelled, his voice caught slightly by the wind as they drove on, feeling a wave of green magic wash over him in response. The radio interrupted his train of thought, however, as the Black City convoy came into close enough range for their radio signals to cross and be intercepted.

"--Were a fool if you really thought we'd wait for you to make the first move,"

"Alexius..."Dorian growled.

He threw up a hand in response, dictating several quick gestures to the surrounding vehicles with resounding nods of understanding. The other members of the warband began to scatter; those on bikes turned a full 180 degrees, breaking the line of the Black City's ranks, while the larger carts split up, demanding that the enemy also break up to follow them.

Evinn watched as, in the midst of several other mages and rogues sending long range attacks into the waves of enemy operatives, Cole revved his bike's engine, zipping between a few different vehicles to draw their attention. Finally, after drawing significant enemy attention, Cole's bike began weaving in and out of traffic at breakneck speed until they passed completely through the enemy line to the other side. Sera dug around in her pack as Cole did this, retrieving a few pitch grenades, which she haphazardly threw into the first few carts she saw. A few drivers were quick enough to dodge around the sticky mess, but she caught three seperate vehicles right on their windsheilds, shreiking with delight as the drivers suddenly tried to overcompensate, two successfully ramming one another and going up in flames. the last simply stopped laying on its gas, and sputtered to a stop. She followed the pitch grenade on that particular car with a volley of well timed arrows, watching them shred the vehicle easily, driver going quiet with a gut wrenching sputter.

"Ghostie boy-- Lets use our legs now, yeah?" She called to Cole, a wicked grin spreading on her face.

Cole brought them close to a two-person cart, Sera readying her bow. Evinn watched in horror as Sera put her hands on Cole's shoulders, boosting herself to standing position on the back of the bike. He nearly cried out at her as Dorian swerved to the right, narrowly avoiding a mace swung at them from the enemy cart beside them.

"Amatus, please-- focus! I can only cast so much when driving!" He roared, even as he easily dispatched the driver with a controlled fireball into the vehicle via the passenger's side window.

Evinn still found it hard to look away as he watched Sera literally jump into action.

She vaulted over Cole's shoulder to land easily on the hood of a Black City vehicle, legs anchored just slightly splayed, and arrows trained on the driver sitting wide-eyed and terrified in front of her.

She roared something _very typically Sera_  as she began firing, just barely stepping aside as a lighting bolt ripped through the air beside her.

Suddenly Cole popped behind the enemy tinker in his usual, nearly invisible fashion, their bike flipping out of control and wreaking havoc as it was suddenly driverless; his daggers plunged effectively into the unwary enemy and rendered them useless as they slumped forward. The cart the two were riding on top of quickly became unstable, its driver and tinker both taken care of, until Cole thrust himself in through the open back window, grabbing the wheel and compensating for the momentary loss of control.

"That's how we do it!" Sera called gleefully, giving Evinn a little wink as Cole continued to drive and try to push the dead body out of the way. Finally he succeeded, the body rolling out of the truck going 90 miles* per hour.

"Leave it to Sera and Cole to cause controlled chaos," Evinn sighed, continuing to cast barriers at every opportunity, effectively buffing the Inquisition forces as they continued to push back in resistance against the Black City's forces.

Anders, Blackwall and Janna were having an equally difficult time, it seemed, as three other vehicles were hot in pursuit.

"Our scouts definitely under-estimated for this battle," Blackwall snorted to himself, clearly displeased at the fact that they were now being pushed back with unreasonable force.

"no use in dwelling on it," Janna sighed, rolling down her passenger side window and attempting to stick her torso out it.

"My lady, what do you think you're doing?!" Blackwall roared, grabbing her by the cloak and wrenching her back inside.

"I thought I was helping-- and--" she nearly snarled, giving Blackwall a warning look, "I'd prefer if you addressed me as Warden Commander-- hell, even Janna, or Cousland, but stop with this 'my lady' nonsense! I'm a warrior, not a arlessa!"

 _at least, not anymore,_  she thought to herself.

"It'd help if i knew what that was," Blackwall chuckled, angling their cart toward the rock face beside them, and making it more difficult for multiple vehicles to tail them.

Anders yelled down below in exasperation.

"I'd prefer if you'd tell me before you pulled stunts like that! I could have easily sent rocks falling on our heads if I were a worse shot!"

"Actually, that's a good idea," Janna mused.

"Be a worse shot then, Tinker!" Blackwall called up above, laying on the gas pedal once more, "Fire away-- but aim behind us!"

"No shit," Anders sighed as he looked for a precarious stone in the rock face above them, before aiming and letting an arcane bolt loose.

From behind them, Dorian watched as the mountain to their left suddenly let loose a cascade of rock matter. He swore loudly, watching as an Inquisition cart very nearly avoided the stones.

"Blackwall, tell your tinker to be careful! We almost lost one of our own with that stunt," he snapped into the radio, not waiting for a reply.

What his eye was trained on, instead, was the 18 wheeled rig that was slowly gaining ground on his bike.

It was only around three car lengths behind now, and he could make out Alexius' stony gaze from his mirrors.

Worse, he now realized, was that they were coming to a bend in the road. There was sheer rock face on either side, blocking out how many carts were now ahead of them and no longer in view-- He wondered if they'd need to take the turn slower-- if they did, it was likely that Alexius was counting on that turn to catch up with them.

He bit his lip.

"Amatus. We need a plan," he yelled, motioning ahead.

Evinn understood, but his mind whirled and came up blank for a moment. Suddenly, it dawned on him. The brunt of the force was still in their midst-- if they could put a bit more distance between them, he may be able to open a rift in the bend-- the rocks would likely come crashing down, and if they were lucky, and give them a successful escape.

"How many of our forces are behind us?" He roared above the din.

"Not many. A few bikes, if that. Cole and Sera made it back to the front of the group," Dorian mused, not following.

"Use your radio-- tell them to get out of here as fast as they can!" Evinn yelled, taking his hands off Dorian's waist for a moment as he unwound his hand. The mark bit at him just slightly as he exposed it to the air.

 _It may hurt, but it's our only shot right now_ , he willed himself to remember.

Dorian unhitched the radio and gave the command. They watched as the few remaining Inquisition bikes shot forward, taking the bend and disappearing behind the mountain.

  
It was then that Evinn lifted himself off the seat and stood behind Dorian, one hand anchored on his shoulder, the other raised defiantly into the air.

Everything seemed to slow as the rift began to form. Green piercing light opened out of nothing above them. Dorian felt his lover shaking as the rift popped, hissed, and split when they passed underneath it. Suddenly, a pained howl ripped through Evinn as he let go of the rift-- the damage to the sky done for the moment, Dorian tore his eyes from the road long enough to see Evinn's arm held close to his chest, a barbed arrow protruding from his forearm.

"Amatus--"

Pain rippled through Evinn's voice as he addressed Dorian, "Whatever you do, keep going! I'm fine--"

Demons pressed against the veil from inside the rift, ripping through it moments later to meet the Black City warband-- they caused chaos and wreaked havoc as the warband tried to compensate for that which they'd never seen before. The suction of the rift was also as Evinn had guessed-- within moments, the bend of the mountain was showered in falling rocks, effectively closing off the narrow pass, and burying those left inside.

Watching as their enemies were engulfed in the rockslide, Dorian began to slow the vehicle, feeling Evinn shuddering uncontrollably behind him.

"What are you doing--" Evinn hissed through his teeth, his hand continuing to convulse painfully as he nursed it close to his chest.

"Amatus, I--"

The bike skidded to a stop as Evinn keeled off it, landing flat on his back and clutching his arm painfully. His breath came in fitful gasps as he felt his shirt quickly becoming slick with blood.

"Amatus!"

Dorian ripped the radio from its holster, pressing the button and practically howling into the reciever, "Inquition! Do you read me?! Inquisition! The Inquisitor has been hit-- I repeat, the Inquisitor has been hit! Requesting backup-- we're near the base of the mountain, just past the collapsed bend!"

A familiar voice answered quickly, "I read you, Thinker Pavus. I'm doubling back for pickup-- should be there in a few."

Dorian's voice shook as he addressed their rescuer, "Thank you, Scout Harding. We'll be waiting for you."

He quickly rounded back to Evinn's side, scooping up the mage's head and placing it gingerly in his lap. He tore strips of his cloak and began wrapping the Inquisitor's forearm, attempting to create a makeshift sling and a tourniquet for the time being. When Evinn groaned painfully in reply, Dorian resisted the urge to chastise his lover.

"Hush, Amatus," he chided quietly, trying to be strong for his lover.

The familiar crushing loneliness he'd experienced the last time he'd lost the Inquisitor threatened to overtake him, but Dorian pressed back against it with all his strength.

One arrow would not take him. Not today.

He worked to keep his voice even.

"Look, Amatus. The Inquisition forces are pushing back the last of the Black City forces-- won't be long until they're overrun. And there's Harding-- she'll be here soon to take you back."

Evinn's voice was weak as he inquired, "Take me back? What about you?"

"I'm going to help clean up the remaining stragglers, then we'll join you." Dorian reasoned, feeling as if talking to a child.

Harding pulled up and jumped out of the cab, helping Dorian load Evinn into the back seat quickly and quietly.

"Come see me as soon as you can," Evinn groaned, to which Dorian nodded.

"I'll have some stern words for you, once this all pans out," he said in reply, "And thank you, Harding. Please... Get him back to Haven, safely."

With a nod, Lace Harding got back into her warmachine and sped off into the distance. Dorian only watched a moment longer, fear in the pit of his belly like a dull knife. He sped forward, however, until he met with the last of the fighting, helping them dispatch the remaining troups with ease. With the sun blazing overhead, the Inquisition warband made its way back to Haven, the radio resuming tense chatter once more. Now, more than ever, they needed their peace talks. They needed their summit.


	20. Mending

**Evinn awoke late in the evening near the back of the sick bay** to a familiar weight pressed tightly against his chest; the light frame of his lover was draped over him, deep asleep and breathing quietly. He shifted slightly, his bandaged arm buzzing idlly as he moved. Dorian stirred quietly in response, a mumbled phrase in Tevene groaned as he rolled off the Inquisitor to simply rest beside him in the cot. Evinn gingerly moved to remove himself from the bed-- Dorian had no doubt spent most of the time since their arrival with him, and as much as he loved the Tevinter's company, he needed to find Solas, and fast.

The green of the crack in his hand seemed to glow brighter-- _hungrier_ \-- than when he'd last inspected it. It burned with more vigor, and placed itself in the forefront of his thoughts as an annoying pain that nipped at his senses, demanding his attention suddenly in ways he could no longer actively ignore.

He'd rather not burden Dorian with the idea, if at all possible.

Exiting the sick bay, he quickly came upon the Inquisition advisors, all with a sense of worry in their features that melted as they saw him. They had seemed to be on their way to visit him, when he'd crossed their paths.

"Inquisitor!"

"You're finally awake."

"Thank the Maker," Josephine gave a breathy sigh.

Evinn placed a finger to his lips, eyes darting quietly behind him to the sick bay; he half expected Dorian to burst from it's doors at any moment, temper ablaze at being left alone in such a place. Fortunately for the moment, this didn't seem the case, and he gathered his thoughts before speaking.

"Has anyone seen Solas?"

With a nod, Cullen motioned toward the edge of camp, "He's resumed study in the library. We postponed the peace talks for the day, Inquisitor. Figured it might not be in our best interest to not have you attend."

While he understood the sentiment, Evinn couldn't help but frown at the notion.

"You were planning to hold the talks whether I was here or not... Why delay them in this case?"

Cullen looked at his feet for a moment, before Leliana intercepted the question.

"Because, now that you and the other champions are back, this changes everything."

Evinn quirked an eyebrow.

"Surely you don't mean that."

"Solas will explain, Inquisitor."

The Inquisition advisors escorted Evinn to the library quietly. The camp seemed finally in a lull as the sun came low in the horizon. Upon opening the library door, Evinn rounded on the others once more.

"I need to speak to Solas... Privately. I understand he has a plan for the peace talks, and I'll be sure to speak with him about that," he enunciated clearly, pressing his point, " _at the proper moment_. Tomorrow, when we hold the summit. In the meantime, something else has come up that needs to be addressed."

His fingers flexed instinctively as the mark gave another sharp jab.

Knowing it not to be the time to argue further, the others simply let him go onward, scattering to the nearest mess hall for the evening. Evinn shut the door behind him with a heavy click as the door locked tightly. Solas seemed surprised by the sound, sitting up stiff and straight. His eyes held a trace of sadness, and his form bristled in the dim light of the room.

A pain shot through Evinn's arm as he made his way to the edge of the building where the elf sat, causing him to groan audibly and clutch at his wrist.

Solas stood, making his way to the Inquisitor's side.

"Is everything all right, my friend?" he asked, his voice low and serious.

Evinn gritted his teeth as he held his arm tightly, "It's been acting up since we came through the first rift. Solas, I don't know why but it feels like its getting worse--"

Solas led the Knight Enchanter to a seat beneath the lamp to his left. They sat together as he drew back the Inquisitor's sleeve, looking not only at the freshly bandaged arrow wound that, while significantly more healed, now scarred his forearm-- but at the mark as well. It radiated painfully, pulsing light and an almost tangible heat.

"Inquisitor," Solas spoke quietly, "Time magic, being so largely untested, could be having an effect on this.... whatever it is. The artifact that caused it is also here, and in closer proximity than it has been in a long time. This could also be affecting you in ways we don't understand. If you'll give me some time, I may be able to help you stabilize it and lessen the pain, but i'm not sure it will be a permanent fix."

Evinn nodded, groaning again when Solas' magic interacted with the mark in a way that caused another flare up.

"I know, Evinn, but you must bear it for a moment longer," Solas shushed him quietly, continuing with his spell. His demeanor turned colder as he continued to ignore the Inquisitor's expressions of pain. The spell took a few more moments, and Evinn felt the muscles in his body constricting as Solas continued to seep mana into him.

He pushed a knuckle from his other hand into his mouth, forcing himself to do anything and everything to keep from crying out-- the mark had always been painful, but it had never been so unbearable as this.

Finally, as Solas withdrew his hands, he felt the last wave of pain breaking over him, and at last it began to ebb back to its normal buzz beneath the surface. A muffled sob escaped his lips as he removed his other hand from his lips. Fists slamming on the library door tore both mage's attention from the task at hand as a familiar voice called out to them.

"Fasta Vass! Open this damn door you bloody bastard! I swear on the Maker, if the Inquisitor is in there, so help me--"

"It seems we'll have to take time to speak further at a later moment," Solas' ears twitched as he spoke, motioning to the door. He made no movement to leave, simply waiting for Evinn to exit first. He would not be the object of the Tevinter's ire today, if he could help it.

Reluctantly, Evinn crossed the room to the door, where he heard Dorian's slamming relent as the heavy bolt slid out of place. Gently, Evinn opened the door to find the small man staring hard at him, eyes welling with tears.

"You bloody bastard," he sniffed, arm raised and nearly ready to box his lover's ears as Evinn reached out and enveloped him quietly. They stood in heavy silence for a moment as Evinn rocked Dorian, hushing him softly and placing kisses on the Tevinter's forehead.

"Amatus..." Evinn sighed, in an attempt to comfort him.

"Festis bei umo canavarum, Amatus," Dorian groaned, running an exasperated hand through his hair, "You have the gall to get pegged with an arrow, while saving the entire Inquisition warband-- And after I spend the whole day watching over you, I finally get a moment's rest, and you leave me alone in the hospital tent!"

"Amatus, I'm sorry," Evinn tried again.

Dorian shook his head, "No! I should be furious! I have a right to be furious!"

Evinn relented, releasing Dorian and putting his hands up in surrender, "You're right! You have every right to be angry."

"And yet..."

He quirked an eyebrow, "And yet?"

Dorian sighed, "And yet, all I can think about is how glad I am that you came back to me this time."

* * *

Fingers trailed down Janna's forearm as Alistair approached the table, pulling a chair close and joining as she, Blackwall and Anders sat deep in an elated discussion. A smile ghosted on her lips as she noticed him, continuing to argue with the others loudly.

"I'm just saying that, as wonderful as all these warmachines might be, when it comes down to sheer strength I could overwhelm these red-lyrium mutants any day!"

Anders threw back his head and laughed.

"She's not kidding! Did you know I once saw her take a running leap and mount a ogre's shoulders! drove her blade right through it's skull, but not before riding it straight into the ground!"

"That's actually a move I learned from you," Janna smirked, turning to give Alistair a hard poke to the chest.

He couldn't help but cast her a sideways glance at that. Alistair chuckled to himself before waving down a barmaid. The four continued to converse a while longer, sharing laughter and war stories until Blackwall stood to leave.

"I've got a morning patrol, unfortunately," He sighed, tossing a few coins on the table, "Drinks are on me tonight, lads. a few more are taken care of too-- anything beyond that, tell 'em its on Blackwall's tab."

Janna flashed a brilliant smile, despite her surprise, "You don't have to do that!"

Blackwall waved her comment away, "Consider it repayment to the proper Warden Commander of Ferelden. Regale me with more of your stories another time and we'll call it even."

Anders raised his ale with a familiar smirk, "Fair enough!"

The three watched as Blackwall stepped away, the jovial atmosphere becoming slightly more somber.

"So... It seems like you're in a better place than when I last saw you..." Alistair worded his thoughts carefully between mouthfuls of ale. Janna cast him a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"The last time I saw you, you seemed to be angry at the circumstances... You said something about being dragged into another war?"

She sighed.

"Everyone's been so offended by the thought that I became a warden without my permission. I thought at least you would understand, love."

When Alistair made no move to answer, she elaborated.

"You know I was saved by Duncan at the price of my life. It wasn't my choice to be drafted into the wardens..."

Anders nodded.

"Nor was it mine, but you conscripted me to save my life. We're in the same boat there."

Janna shrugged, "And coming here felt similar to my being drafted... In my world, I've been spending all my time looking for a cure to the taint, not fighting in silly wars. It's been wonderful to see you, love, but... We're on a time limit... Seeing you, and Anders, has been really the only good thing to come from this."

"Well, not the only good thing..."

Anders' quip caused Janna to wheel on him, giving him a surprised look.

"Then, you've considered--"

"I have. Once Corypheus is defeated in this world, I'll be more than happy to join you in your search for the cure to the taint," Anders said, giving Janna a firm nod.

A gleeful squeak erupted from Janna as she shot up from her seat, enveloping Anders in a tight hug.

"Alistair, this is great news! Drinks all around!" She squealed, smiling brightly.

Alistair, however, sat deep in thought, unable to share in his lover's joy at the revelation. How much longer would he have to spend with her, after all? Once Corypheus was defeated, she would leave again, and he would be alone once more.

 _No._ He forced the thought from his mind, _I must be happy for the time we will have together. I would hate to take her away from the me in her world, after all... Besides, It's as she said; she's on a time limit as it is_.

He put a smile on for her as he forced himself to be present in the conversation once more. They continued to gossip and converse for a few more hours, til the moon was high and they broke apart for the evening, seeking out Josephine to inquire about possible sleeping quarters for the evening.

* * *

 

"Remind me again, why did I let you talk me into this?"

"Come on, Hawke. You've never been able to resist my troublesome ideas," Varric winked.

His smirk did nothing to undo the knots that quickly formed in her stomach.

"This is a mistake. I shouldn't be here."

Hawke stopped mid-step, the quiver in her voice genuinely giving Varric pause; did she truly dread this so much?

"Look, Hawke, I know it's awkward... Well, extra awkward because i talked to her about how you were dead, but..."

"Great, so I've got that going for me as well," She muttered.

"Hawke... I didn't really... _do_ well after your death. I needed _someone_  to talk to about it."

A pang of guilt tore through her. It wasn't fair of her to take her nerves out on him, she knew. She couldn't imagine losing him-- but he had actually lost her, for quite a while. It would make sense for him to feel it just as harshly. To grieve and move on was natural-- if Bianca was who Varric needed to reach out to, then who was she to judge?

"She, Daisy and Rivaini are the people that made me take care of myself. You know, eat, bathe, that kind of thing. I promised her I'd have dinner with her. I owe her that much. But... I'm not going to force you to do this," He sighed, his fingers running up the back of his neck, "If you're uncomfortable, you're free to go..."

"Fine," Hawke relented, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I won't look a free meal in the mouth. You know me better than that, Varric."

"That I do, Hawke... That I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the in-betweener chapter. yay world building!


	21. Great, and all...

  
**"So... This is Hawke, huh?"**

The woman speaking swirled the wine in her glass as she spoke, motioning to Hawke while looking deadpan at Varric, her voice soft and velvety while at the same time more terrifying than anything Hawke had heard in her life. Hawke tried to keep her voice still and measured, nonetheless.

"That's me, I guess..." a nervous chuckle escaped her as her knife scraped her plate. Uncomfortably, she forced herself to eat. Varric cast her a disapproving glance over the rim of his ale.

"Well, so much for you being dead," Bianca shrugged, glancing between Hawke and Varric, trying to get a read of the room.

"Bianca. These are extenuating circumstances," Varric amended, "Apparently there's some sort of time-magic shit going on. You wouldn't believe the things that they come up with! I couldn't have written that shit if I tried."

Instinctively, he found himself reaching out to Bianca as he spoke; Hawke's shoulders stiffened at the sight. Ever the perceptive rogue, Varric noticed despite her efforts to hide it.

_Shit_. He wasn't used to the possibility of his subconscious actions making her uncomfortable.

Perhaps he needed to take more care before he moved without thinking.

"Well, we're here now. May as well make the best of it," Hawke mused, trying to let things roll off her shoulders.

"Please," Bianca gave a scoffing laugh, "Have you ever known _this one_ to make the best of anything?" Her words were scalding, despite the light-hearted smirk she used while nodding at Varric.

Hawke's eyes narrowed, her temper flaring "And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Hawke..." Varric's voice hinted at a jolly laugh at his own expense, but his actions betrayed him when his hand found it's way to her arm. He gave her a quiet   
squeeze.

_Let it go. This is just what she does._

"Oh, come on, now. Don't tell me he only pulls the hack-writer act with me? He mopes and mopes, then writes what he should have done afterward," Bianca chuckled, draining the last of her wine.

Hawke's fists balled beneath the table, her knuckles going white.

_This was the woman Varric so desperately held onto? One who constantly berated him, and made light of his life?_

"I guess... If you say so," she managed to reply weakly, taking one more bite of food quietly before drinking deeply.

"Oh believe me-- I've known him long enough to be sure," Bianca winked, "Varric may need some help to enjoy the evening."

Hawke coughed.

"I'm so sorry," She began, getting up and casting a glance toward the door, "I just realized that my brother has probably woken up by now-- that and, with the Inquisitor hospitalized, I really should be..."

"Hawke, wait..."

Varric's voice sounded almost wounded, but he didn't pursue her as she pushed away from her chair and didn't look back until the door to the tavern was closed.

"She didn't even say goodbye, did she?" Bianca seemed less than thrilled at the sudden departure of their guest, "What a pity."

"She's had it rough, since coming back from the dead," Varric sighed wearily, "Maker knows I haven't made it easy on her."

"Varric, that's not your job," Bianca said softly.

He looked at her, forming a question on his lips. Finally he mustered it.

"What is my job, then?"

"Well, you work for the Inquisition now, right?" Her green eyes gleamed, "Don't they ask that you <treat> all guests of the Inquisition kindly?"

"Are we insinuating that you're now some <honored guest> of the Inquisition?" he chuckled, mostly to himself.

"Aren't we?"

Varric sighed, unable to suppress a chuckle. He and Bianca continued dining amongst the din of the bar, their laughter and conversation continuing for a while longer before Varric excused himself for the evening.

* * *

 

Varric left the tavern with a very pointed purpose; find Hawke. She clearly left in discomfort, and the only thing that kept him from pursuing her at that moment was his tie to Bianca, and an obligation to spend time with her.

It seemed he needn't look far to find her, however, as he rounded the corner on the edge of camp nearest to the garage housing the warmachines. Hawke sat on the hood of one machine, watching as Alistair pointed out engine parts to her and Janna on another. She seemed only marginally interested, however, as Alistair began taking the open hood down off it's kickstand to close it for the evening. It shut with a loud click, Janna and Alistair smiling and laughing as they finished. Alistair grinned, swiping a thumb of engine grease on Janna's nose playfully, to which she replied with a half-hearted fist to his shoulder. Hawke leaned back onto the hood as the others excused themselves for the evening, and she watched them retreat from view as she lay back against the windshield, looking up at the night sky.

Varric dragged his feet as he stepped closer, unsure of whether or not he'd struck a nerve by bringing her to dinner with him.

Without looking back toward him, however, Hawke spoke.

"Alistair says we're to do clean-up duty with the Inquisitor and company tomorrow, after the summit."

Varric seemed somewhat taken aback that she spoke so calmly, "huh."

"Yeah, something about not leaving rifts open in this world and whatnot. Could be inviting a whole unintended mess of trouble."

"Makes sense."

"I guess."

He arrived beside the warmachine, and rounded to the front of it, at which point he hoisted himself up beside her by stepping onto the bumper. She offered a hand to help pull him into place, and together they leaned against the windshield and gazed up at the stars.

They sat like this for several moments, no one uttering a word.

Finally, Varric cleared his throat.

"How was Carver?"

Hawke sighed, "He was already up and walking around by the time I got there. Mad that they're excluding him from the summit, but understood when Nathaniel and Teagan pulled him aside and explained how the Wardens are apparently going to hell. He' still isn't all the way healed, either, but he's well enough to eat and move around a little bit."

Varric nodded.

"And the Inquisitor?"

"Apparently left of his own accord, seeking out the elven mage, Solas, a while ago. Was since seen on Dorian's arm in the mess hall. Seems they've retired to their suite."

"Good."

They fell into silence once again, avoiding looking at each other, instead focusing on the constellations coming into view.

Hawke's voice startled Varric when it came out of nowhere after a long bout of quiet.  
  
"So, Bianca seems great."

He chuckled, "Don't sound so enthused, Hawke."

She tried again, "So, Bianca's great and all, but..."

When her thought petered out into silence, Varric finished for her, "Let me guess, _she's not that great_."

It was Hawke's turn to laugh this time. Varric felt her relax slightly, her arms falling from their perch just below her ribs to rest at his side.

"I thought the only person who could ever manage to be meaner to you than you are to yourself was Bartrand," Hawke sighed.

"Please! She's not half as mean as Bartrand was!" Varric laughed defensively.

They chuckled together for a moment longer, their laughter dissolving into comfortable silence.

"Varric..."

"I know, I know. I missed you too, Hawke," he nodded, "From what I remember you telling me, you had to leave me alone for a while in your world too, right?"

"Yeah," she sighed, "I had to throw off any connection between us so that Meredith's templars wouldn't come after you. We'd been apart for a couple years-- up until recently, that is. Apparently, my going into hiding meant nothing, when you released your book about our adventures and explained it in full detail to the right hand of the Divine, however."

She huffed the last bit, to which he laughed aloud.

"That certainly sounds like something I'd do... But, it goes without saying; you and I have always made a great team."

"They don't know the half of it," She agreed with a grin.

"You know, I have to ask. Have you ever thought about staying here?"

The question was asked suddenly and without warning. Hawke looked at the dwarf in surprise, her eyes wide as she struggled to come up with a response.

"Varric, you know I can't... The Inquisition needs me-- They need all of us, in some fashion or another..."

"I know..." His voice was suddenly dark and thick with emotion, "And I know you aren't the Hawke I once knew..."

He enveloped her shoulders in a one armed hug, sliding beneath her neck to support her for a moment, while still refusing to look her in the eyes.

"But I already lost you once. If I'm honest, I don't think I can take losing you again."

"Varric..."

"I'm sorry," he apologized, after a moment of silence, "It wasn't fair of me to ask you that. And I know you need to go back... It's just--"

"It's not fair," She answered for him, taking initiative and drawing close. She leaned over him, her hair falling over her shoulder, and even in its loose binding, managing to brush his chin with the slight breeze of the evening.

Suddenly they both felt a warmth in the pit of their stomachs, every other feeling overwhelmed with desire. Their eyes finally met as Hawke felt Varric's breath on her face. He seemed tentative-- nervous even.

"What's wrong?" She asked, mouth suddenly dry.

"I'm not sure," He sighed, chuckling at his own inaction, "Maybe Bianca's right. Maybe I do need some <help> to enjoy the evening."

"Well, if you're willing... I'd love to <give you> said help," Hawke winked, casting him a sideways, sultry glance that made him laugh aloud.

"And just how are you supposed to do that?"

"Give me some liquor, and an hour. I promise you'll be enjoying yourself by then," Hawke said with a laugh, the flirtatiousness in her voice overtaking anything else.

Varric looked on at her in wonder.

"You are something else, Hawke..." A thought suddenly occurred as color began to burn in his cheeks, "But what about... When you go back?"

"Please-- Let everyone else who got thrown in the rifts here worry about their morality. You and I have never been fully committed," She scoffed, bitterness traced   
slightly in her voice.  
  
He nodded quietly after a moment, "Ah. Same problem, then."

With a shrug, Hawke sat up from the windsheild behind them, swinging her legs off the side and leaving Varric alone on the hood of the car once more.

"We're being leant a couple of rooms near the library," she smiled, "If you feel like letting loose and _getting the help you so need_ , then meet me there, later."

Without another word, Hawke departed, leaving Varric to look up at the sky in confusion.

_Same old Hawke as ever,_  he groused to himself, continuing to stare forlornly up at the night sky.

As usual, he had a choice; to allow himself to fall into her arms once again, or to spare himself the danger of giving in, and hurting all the more in her absence.

_Always too predictible,_  came his answer, _I always was one to lean toward tragedy._


	22. A building flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to tumblr user nightshine629 for the jumping off point of Varric's entering line!

**Hawke returned to the night lodging at a leisurely pace** , allowing herself to feel the subtle intricacies of the desert evening. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and feeling the night breeze ghost across her skin. Opening her eyes, she leaned against the building a moment longer, just thinking to herself.

_Things are about to get a lot more difficult. We may have killed Corypheus before, but he didn't stay dead... The threat_ _is different when he's in an armored warmachine, but, I wonder... Does he have the same ability to come back in this_ _world?_

Her thoughts were interrupted as she opened the door to the room and came upon Alistair, Janna and Anders playing a game of wicked grace at the dining table.

"Hawke!" Anders' voice was touched with liquor and a sleepy grin.

"Anders! Everyone-- what are you doing here?"

"What does it look like we're doing here?" Janna raised an eyebrow to Hawke's obvious surprise.

"Come on, Hawke, we'll deal you in," Alistair smiled, "Maybe if we add one more player I'll finally have someone to beat."

Anders laughed at that, "Afraid you'll be sorely mistaken; Hawke's better than I am."

Alistair gave a fake groan as Hawke tentatively sat down.

She wasn't expecting the mob of people in her room when she'd invited Varric down. Now she was secretly hoping he had the common sense not to follow through with her invitation.

"In all seriousness, though," Hawke tried again, "I thought we had an early morning tomorrow... Are we not attending the summit, then doing rift cleanup with the Inquisitor?"

"The night is still young, Hawke! You protest too much," Anders laughed, "We're celebrating, after all!"

"What are we celebrating?" Hawke's interests were adequately piqued as she picked up the hand.

"Anders has decided to come back with us," Janna replied, acting as dealer for the moment.

Hawke seemed genuinely surprised by the news, "You're coming back?"

"I am," Anders nodded, "The Warden commander asked that I come with her, to look for a cure to the taint. With her, I'll be able to help with something beyond myself. Sure, I'll still be on the run, but... I'll be doing some good."

"Congratulations, Anders. I'm glad to hear you'll be with us."

the genuine smile in Hawke's voice gave Anders' stomach a sad twinge.

A thought occurs to Alistair as everyone reveals their hands for the round. He chuckles as he finally wins a hand, before looking in Hawke's direction, "Hey, where were you tonight? We've all been busy, making sure the Inquisitor healed up okay, then heading to the bar, but you've been absent pretty much since we got back..."

Hawke sighed.

"Varric roped me into meeting Bianca tonight."

Anders' remark of surprise had Alistair and Janna looking between the two, perplexed by the reaction.

"You don't seem very pleased to meet her," Janna tried, dealing the next hand.

Anders gave a snort, "Who would be, when the person you've been fooling around with for years essentially made you have dinner with his mistress?"

"Ahh," came the two wardens' responses as things finally clicked.

"Then why in the world did you agree to such a night? That couldn't have been fun," Alistair asked as he traded a few cards to the dealer.

"Morbid curiosity, and a stupid desire to make him happy, I guess?" Hawke moaned, promptly folding her hand.

"Did you find out anything interesting from the interaction, at least?" Anders asked as the others revealed their hands, Alistair shouting in triumph once again as the cards were returned and he became dealer.

"Only that the only person who's more terrible to Varric than himself, is her." Hawke replied bitterly, shaking her head when offered another hand.

"Is that surprising?" Alistair asked, "From my experience, he's always been rather down on himself. Could it be that that kind of attention is infectious?"

"Hmm, may sound like someone else I knew, before I got through with him," Janna chuckled, looking down her nose at Alistair.

"I was an unwanted bastard son, remember? That kind of thinking is pretty much enforced in that situation," He said in a somewhat stern way; his eyes betrayed his smile, however, which followed shortly afterward.

"I don't think you have the same experience he did," Hawke cautioned, "His experience with her apparently had something to do with holding a wedding ceremony and her not showing up, in favor of getting married to someone else."

Anders looked surprised, "I'm surprised you know about that. Varric had me sworn to secrecy that I wouldn't reveal that to you."

"I have my own sources," Hawke sighed quietly, "But even so he still apparently keeps going back to her. Enough so that he's never been commited to us."

When everyone went quiet, she gave a frustrated groan, "But why are we talking about this?"

"Because you need a drink!" Came Anders' reply, as he handed her a glass of something deeply spiced and red.

A knock at the door caused the four of them to spin in their seats, surprised by the interruption. Hawke threw back the drink quickly, her stomach dropping as she realized who it probably was.

Everyone else looked at her, perplexed, as she took a shaky breath.

"Were you expecting someone?"

"No, I don't think so, I--" She lied, shrugging as her eyes stayed glued to the door.

_Well I guess this is happening_ , she thought to herself as she heard the doorknob turn.

"Hawke, you better pull out some candles because I'm ready to really let loose and--" The husky growl in Varric's voice gave way to a surprised chuckle when the door swung open to reveal that they weren't alone, "And write, but the lights are all out in my room."

He dropped his hand from the doorknob as he entered, shifting under his duster with a mostly full bottle of Antivan spirits sloshing in his other hand.

"What did _I_ miss?"

The others looked between each other quietly, Janna beginning to chuckle as she rearranged the cards in a stack in front of her.

"Just a few hands of wicked grace," she smiled, "But I suppose it is getting late, and we do have the summit tomorrow..."

Alistair seemed crestfallen as he realized she was cleaning up the game, "But I was finally winning--"

Anders placed a half-full glass in Alistair's hand, motioning for him to drink up what was left.

"I'm sure your winning streak can hold out 'til after our duties tomorrow. Come on."

Alistair watched as Janna and Anders threw back their drinks, following their example before gathering their glasses and cards, and making their way towards the door.

"Wait-- I don't mean to break up a good time," Varric protested half-heartedly, Hawke shooting him a look as she tried to catch up with the others before they left.

"Oh no, no," Janna waved him off, "No trouble at all. We camped out for a while before Hawke got here anyway. I have a feeling we overstayed our welcome, and she was too nice to say anything."

Hawke began to protest, following them out beyond the door, which shut quietly behind her, leaving Varric alone in the room.

"Janna-- wait, everyone, come on, I mean--"

"Hawke." Janna couldn't contain her smile as Alistair gave an equally devious smirk.

"Have fun, be safe," He joked. Janna turned and socked him in the arm.

"Don't sleep through the summit tomorrow," Anders groaned, fingers on the bridge of his nose, unsure of whether to be embarassed for the two of them or simply resigned to the fact that they generally had no shame at all when it came to these matters-- until after the deed was done.

Hawke hovered outside the door as the others trekked away from her, watching their forms disappear into the darkness. With a gulp of air to steady the pounding of her heart, she opened the door once again, as Varric sat perched on the end of her bed, a hand running up the back of his neck in the awkward silence. The bottle sat on the table, next to the deck of cards, with two glasses neatly poured. One candle adorned the table, casting warm and flickering light around the room.

Varric gave a sheepish grin.

"I must have misread the signals earlier-- when you said 'let loose', I wasn't really thinking of Wicked Grace with the others," He said with a self-depricating chuckle.

"Honestly, neither was I," Hawke managed to sigh, slumping into one of the chairs before grabbing a glass from the table.

"They apparently staked out my room," She eyed the liquid intently, "Only three quarters of a bottle?"

"Took some liquid courage to get me here," He answered, getting up from the bed to join her at the table, taking the other glass in his hand.

They sat across from each other, watching the candle burn as they drank in silence.

"So pretty much everyone thinks we're going to..." Varric's question was quiet, as he uncorked the bottle and poured more for each of them.

"Yep," came Hawke's reply, a small, slightly exasperated chuckle slipping out.

Varric thought he caught her tongue darting over her bottom lip.

"So, are we going to...?"

"I don't know Varric, do we have enough candles?"

"Shut up," He laughed, giving her a playful shove from across the table, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment too long.

Their eyes met for a moment, the warm tension of the room quickly becoming palpable.

Varric broke eye contact as he pushed out of his chair, stepping gently around the table to wrap his fingers in Hawke's blouse, pulling her to his level and pressing the scruff of his chin to hers. They kissed once, softly at first, pressing their foreheads together and feeling each other's breath on their lips.

Then came another kiss; this one harder, deeper, and more hungry. Hawke snaked her tongue into Varric's mouth, her fingers gently cupping his chin to draw him closer. He sidled closer subconsciously, his tongue chasing hers when she withdrew. A low growl formed in the back of his throat as her fingers knotted themselves tightly in his hair, one hand anchored at the back of his thick neck and shoulders.

They broke apart suddenly, Hawke gasping for air as Varric's lips caressed her cheek, then chin, then neck. She felt her skin tingle as Varric's stubble grazed her, his tongue lapping the outer shell of her ear. She moaned softly at the sensation. This spurned him onward, his breath now hot against her neck. A nip, a suck, and then sudden withdrawal, his fingers letting go of the fabric that had bunched tightly between his digits. Hawke's eyes fluttered open to see him stepping backward, slowly, his eyes twinkling with unvoiced mirth.

He climbed into the bed, still fully clothed, and leaned against the headboard, allowing his head to loll back into the hard oak.

His smile was genuine, sending Hawke's heart into her throat.

She willed herself to put the strength back in her legs in order to join him in the soft space. Sluggishly, her body obeyed.

When she finally managed to pull herself to his side he laughed, his hand cupping her chin gently.

"What's the matter? No will to continue?" he chuckled.

She cast him a faux-reproachful look, "Excuse me for needing a moment. Spending the past few years on the run tends to leave one feeling a bit ragged, thank you."

Another laugh followed her comment, accompanied by what could only be described as a shit-eating grin on Varric's part.

"Oh? Well perhaps tonight will be the best sleep you've had in <years>," he smirked.

"It's going to be that good, is it?" Hawke laughed.

"If you'll let it be," he shrugged, continuing to smirk.

She leaned in and pressed her lips softly against his adam's apple, feeling him sag against the headboard once again. Her lips retracted as she grazed him softly with her teeth, feeling a low growl begin to generate at the back of his throat, vibrating softly into her mouth.

Her fingers slipped beneath the duster's collar, helping him shimmy free as she continued to exact her revenge. In nearly complete silence he obeyed, allowing her to continue undressing him til he sat in his breeches and small clothes, exposed to the night air. She lifted one of his wide hands thoughtfully, kissing his knuckles softly, and guiding his forefinger seductively into her mouth.

Her tongue swirled the tip first, sucking at the length next and lapping at the groove of his nail, which sent a heated sensation through him like a bolt. With a groan he withdrew from her mouth, leaving her glancing curiously from his face, to the now swelling bulge of his cock. It was Hawke's turn now to flash him a smug smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to worry, the nsfw doesn't end here! I simply like to keep mostly uniform chapter lengths, and this seemed like an adequate stopping point. Hope you're all looking forward to the hanky panky as much as I am.


	23. Passionate Embraces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((This chapter is pretty much entirely sex. just warning you ahead of time in case you want to skip that kind of thing))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took me so long to write... truth be told this month has been super duper rough on my wife and I and it has been hard to get anything that isn't school or work done. but! I bring you the NSFW chapter! the next one might be too............. I may also have Evinn & Dorian hold off a bit yet. We'll have to see.... depends on how burnt out I am at writing sex.... in any case! I hope you all enjoy the dirty business!

**Her attempt at banter was cut painfully short** as Varric took initiative and pinned her to the mattress on her back. His cock rubbed against her knee as he moved, breath hissing through his teeth in response. He only stayed there a moment, looping fingers in the band of her breeches and tearing them from her hips, very nearly ripping the fabric in doing so.

"Varric--" Hawke began to protest, but to no avail as the dwarf threw her knees over his shoulders, holding her tightly in place. Her fingers tensed in his hair as his mouth found it's mark easily, his tongue lapping through the fabric of her smalls and drenching her sensitive skin below.

"M-Maker," she moaned, knees pressing tight against Varric's ears as he continued to pleasure her. He hummed happily as her hips bucked, watching intently as one of her hands slid up the taut muscles of her stomach, and under the hem of her blouse to play with her breasts.  
  
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Hawke," He paused long enough to speak, running his tongue over his bottom lip and smirking at the desire so clearly written on her face, "If I'm really supposed to be _letting loose_ tonight, then we shouldn't spare any expense."

Suddenly it was a game of who could establish dominance first; Hawke managed to peel herself off his shoulders and swing her legs over the side of the bed before he realized she was trying to mobilize. With a growl of protest he launched himself toward her-- after all, he wasn't quite finished with pleasuring her yet. It seemed however that Hawke was in no mood to be caught first; the room was suddenly cold, and Varric felt everything slow down-- himself, included.

She caught him easily, giving him a shove back onto the bed and slipping off the linen shirt she'd been wearing previously.

"You cheated!" Varric grumbled, feeling chill air pass over his exposed chest.

Hawke simply stared back at him with a haughty expression, before twisting the shirt tightly to form a rope that she wound around his wrists.

"I'd have had no chance if I didn't," she shrugged, securing his wrists to the headboard, and watching him squirm as she sat back on her haunches.

The muscles in his thick arms tightened as he tried to wriggle free; she hated to admit how much she enjoyed the show.

When at last he gave up struggling, and looked at her with an expression of defeat, she began her original plan.

The air in the room still cool with magic, Hawke watching as his skin erupted in goosebumps at her touch. Her fingertips trailed down from his chin, dragging lightly through the coarse, golden hair on his chest, slipping even beyond the slight round at his stomach, to rest on the laces of his breeches.

His large member strained against the fabric impressively. She smirked as her hand cupped his length through the cloth, teasing and testing his resolve. He shifted against his restraints, a low, needy moan escaping him.

Hawke slowly-- reverently-- loosened the laces on his breeches and tugged them just low enough to expose him. She leaned a knee heavily on the remaing cloth, effectively pinning his legs still as well.

In the cool stillness of the room, he felt her hot breath as she leaned over him, tucking hair behind her ears and out of her face. The familiar scent of his body filled her senses as she enveloped him, swirling around him lightly with her tongue in small circles.

He felt as though every force in the world was pushing back against him as he strained-- his hips pumping gently into Hawke's warm mouth made him feel like he'd lose it soon.

He struggled again, hearing a sudden pop of the seams in Hawke's shirt. Her eyes darted to his face as she took him to the hilt, her brows furrowed as she attempted to speak.

_Did you just rip my shirt?_

The words weren't there, but he got the gist of her question. If he'd had the strength to act apologetic about the incident, he would have, but in truth it was taking all his energy not to simply lose everything right there. Hawke had already increased her pace, her fingers slipping around his hips to grope his ass lightly. One hand slid back to cup his  
balls before trailing back up his shaft as she released him. Still slick from her assault, her hands glided up his length easily, causing his movements to become more feverish.

"Hawke-- please, let me--"

"Fine-- You're no fun," she teased, finally assenting to let him free. Straddling his knee as she leaned over him, she seemed to be nearly presenting her chest in his face as she undid the knots in her shirt. He felt the hot warmth of her most sensitive place, still damp from his mouth pressed tightly against him. As soon as his bonds were free his hands were roaming over her-- trailing her hips, and grinding them against him. His hands ascended to her chest, groping and pressing his face to her breasts as he lapped at her nipples. She gave a heady sigh, threatening to lose her balance as her arms wobbled, almost too weak to hold herself above him. He relented, allowing her to climb back off him, and continue what she'd started.

As she drew him back into her mouth, she couldn't help but smile-- he tenderly gathered her hair for her, before wrapping it tightly around his fingers. He took control of the movement, begging her to speed up as he came quickly to the brink.

"Hawke--" He labored, "Is it okay, if I--"

She made a movement like a nod, her grin showing in her eyes as the dwarf came undone. His moans came through closed lips as he orgasmed-- a strangled sob that had become familiar to her over the years. His convulsions stopped after a few moments and she released him, swiping the back of her arm across her chin lightly.

They both sat back, gasping for air before elated laughter overtook them both.

She gave him a moment to recover, scooping him up and pressing close against him. He buried his face in her chest a moment, hitching her knees up and over his hips as they lay intertwined on the bed. The room had begun to heat up once again, but all Varric could feel was the heat that radiated off her.

It was undeniable how much he'd missed her in her absence. He was damn sure she felt the same.

* * *

"Why the sour expression?"

It had happened again. As they lay down to sleep for the evening, Alistair had allowed his mind to wander, and once again he'd only managed to fixate on the depressing thought that she was leaving-- and worse, she'd caught him doing so.

He glanced at the woman nestled into his lap, noticing the determined look she cast over him. He shook his head, attempting to ward off suspicions before turning away from her. He faced the wall, feeling the slight pressure of her back against his.

"Will you turn out the light, please?" he asked stiffly.

His refusal to acknowledge the question only made her more frustrated.

"Alistair--"

She rolled over to face him, lifting herself and planting her arms on either side of his shoulders. When he still managed to keep from looking at her, she placed a hand under his chin and guided his gaze to her.

Stubbornly, he finally relented.

Janna tried again, "Alistair?"

Try as he might, he couldn't get the words to form; he wanted to tell her about the sadness that remained as a heavy lump in his throat when he thought about her leaving him again. He wanted to tell her that she was the world to him. But the words wouldn't come, and he settled with pulling her tightly back to his chest. It caught her off guard, and an endearing squeak escaped her when he did so.

The kiss he placed on her forehead was soft and tender. She felt him shudder slightly.

"Please, talk to me, love..."

"you'll--" he struggled, "You'll be leaving soon..."

It dawned on her finally; she'd be going home, but he'd be left alone in the world once again.

"And I know it wouldn't be prudent to ask you to stay here-- as you said, you're tainted which means you're on a time limit, but..."

She nodded, knowingly. The pain was transparent on his face-- but he knew what must be done.

"I just... Can't believe I've gotten a second chance, is all. Knowing you'll be leaving again is painful, but... I'm trying to do my best to focus on the positives."

"thank you," she sighed, "I know it must be terribly rough..."

She leaned up and planted a kiss on his chin. He seemed taken off guard by the act, angling his chin down toward the small woman pressed to his chest.

This simply gave her easier access as she pounced on him, kissing him hard on the lips.

"Janna?"

She slid out of bed suddenly, promptly moving to turn out the lights at his previous request. He watched her hips sway absentmindedly, til she sent him a glance over her shoulder that sent a shiver down his spine. She paused near the light source, stripping down to her smalls and nightshirt before leaning over and extinguishing the light, giving him a show before falling into darkness.

His mouth was suddenly dry as the bed became entirely too warm for his liking.

"... Janna?" He managed to struggle out, trying again.

She made no reply as she crawled back into bed; he felt her skin rub against his bare chest-- _she wasn't wearing the night shirt any longer._

He began to say something-- anything, anecdotal or otherwise, when her lips collided with his once again. She was passionate, ravenous--- all of the previous reservation seemed thrown to the wind. She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her tongue placing runes on his neck.

He chuckled in surprise, "What's gotten into you?"

"I've been over-thinking everything since we arrived here," she sighed after a moment of contemplative silence, "I want to enjoy the time I have with you. Please..."

Alistair nodded after some consideration. The woman he loved lay flush to his chest, her breath matching his own in pace as the air grew thick with tension. He nudged a finger under her chin and pressed her lips to his own, the moment tender and sweet, until Janna, with a flick of her tongue, invited the former-templar to reach deeper.

Her fingers slid up the back of his neck to tangle in his short hair, giving it a sensual tug that sent a groan shuddering out of him, which she silenced with another deep kiss.

Alistair's more daring side began to awaken, sensing her urgency as they worked up to a feverish pace; his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room as he pushed her onto her back, his wide hands pressing her shoulders down into the bed below them as his tongue worked its way from her neck to her collarbones, before gliding down the center of her chest and firmly attaching his lips to her breast. He sucked hard, lapping loudly at her nipple as Janna gave a responsive moan.

"Oh Maker--" she gasped, her body attempting to writhe as he continued to hold her flush to the bed, sucking and nipping seductively at her chest. He grinned as he felt her nipples beginning to firm under his tongue; he pressed himself flush to her, his cock rubbing hard against her as his arousal became plain. Her hands slid up from the bed to his thigh, where he finally relented, taking her hand in his own and guiding it over his cock.

She smiled when a slight flex of her fingers caused the man to moan softly.

How long had it been since they'd been together? They'd shared a few reunions since the battle at Amaranthine, but she didn't want to think about how long they'd been apart since then. A devilish look from Alistair quickly interrupted her train of thought as he began to untie the laces of his breeches, exposing himself to the night air. She hesitated for just a moment, confirming as she'd already known from the very beginning; he was still Alistair Theirin, from the hard line of muscles cutting down his back, to the same thick patch of hair hovering just below his navel.

Janna sat on the bed looking up as Alistair seemed to tower over her; he'd always been taller than her, but she only usually felt it acutely in moments of high passion.

He felt her eyes scanning him as he watched her swallow dryly. Passively his hand fell to his aching member.

"I take it it's been a while for you too," he managed to chuckle.

"Well... yes," She seemed flustered by the statement, "Sometimes it seems like there's a lot of _pressure_ when it comes to starting, and,"

He quietly took her hand in his own, stepping closer before guiding her to work him from base to end. As she continued the motion he began to let himself revel in the sensation, his hips beginning to buck in answer as his head lolled back on his shoulders. His eyes stayed open just long enough to note the smile of satisfaction on her lips as they continued. With his arousal significantly piqued, Alistair decided to take control once more. He urged her to her feet, drawing her close and kissing her hungrily, elatedly noticing that she did not slow her pace.

"hnn-- Not so rough, love," he managed to groan, biting down just slightly on her neck as he guided her around the room.

The room was thick with their heat; Janna felt them press against the wooden table as Alistair made his move. Gently, he turned her around, bending her over the table ever so slightly. With a soft hand, he lifted the curtain of her hair to press a soft, warm kiss at the base of her neck.

She went just slightly limp at the motion, allowing the man whatever silly fantasy he seemed intent on playing out, as she heard him drop lightly to his knees behind her.

His eyes followed the curved line of her ass reverently in the darkness, his fingers trailing up her hips before gently slipping her smalls down her thighs, til they landed in a damp heap on the floor.

Wordlessly, he began to pleasure her, his fingers gliding down, beneath her ass to rest on the lips of her heat. He spread her softly, feeling a shudder exit her as he sampled her wetness. she was caught off guard momentarily as he began to lift her off the ground and pressed her further onto the table.

"Spread-- Please--" his voice was commanding, but laced with the sweetness she'd always adored. Quietly, she moved to obey, when a different idea struck her lover.

"Actually---" he beckoned for her to get down, "lets do this..."

He led her back to the bed, where he lay down first, flat on his back with a smirk on his face. He sat up only long enough to welcome her back to the bed, before laying down and making his intentions clear.

"I wanted--- better..... access, I guess," He had started confident, but as his thought progressed, the familiar embarassment overtook him.

Understanding his desire, Janna made no comment about his supposed innocence, but instead took his hands as she mounted him, not yet applying her weight to him. His breath was hot and labored, sending spikes of sensation up the back of her spine as it caressed her most sensitive places.

He slid out from under her for just a moment, and as she sat heavily on his chest, he gave her a cross look, "You don't need to hold back. I'm not worried about your.... position."

She chuckled as he slipped down below once again, but as they returned to their positions she made no move to place her weight completely on him. She felt him sigh heavily, and a surprised chuckle escaped her lips.

It was then that he began an assault that left her gasping, his tongue exploring and pressing her to an edge that left her reeling. They continued this tenderly for what felt like an eternity; Alistair knew her buttons, and just what to do to bring her to the brink, before pulling back and leaving her moaning his name and begging for release.

At last she couldn't take it any longer, and with a moan of, "Alistair, please--" she dragged him back from the bed to the table where he'd clearly wanted to begin.

"Maker, Please, just---"

Her voice was loaded with want that stirred Alistair painfully. He followed her, pressing up close and bending over her to nip her ear as he steadied her hips.

"Was I supposed to be done, then?" He joked, his hand gliding over the slickness of her entrance.

"No," she moaned quietly into the wooden table, glancing over her shoulder to see him using her wetness to ready himself.

A hand slid onto her hip, guiding her to meet him as his cock grazed her. She felt the hitch in his breath as everything seemed to stand still. She spread her own lips as he entered, his cock swallowed greedily as he groaned softly into her shoulder. He withdrew partially before pressing back into her center, beginning slowly at first before quickly picking up speed to match the level of her ecstasy. Her hands strayed to her clitoris, matching his rhythm as she felt him losing himself to pleasure. The room was silent save for the sound of their bodies meeting, and their desperate groans as their passion mounted.

Janna felt his pace begin to quicken as Alistair slipped close to the edge.

"I-I'm close," he warned with a whimpering moan. She grinned to herself, feeling her own orgasm coming to the brink.

"I'm ready when you are," She answered, feeling him lose all control.

It became a maddened dash over the edge as they came together, fervently moving together before collapsing in a passionate pile together, not a care in the world. Alistair lay draped over Janna, feeling their heartbeats pumping in time as they took a few moments to recover. When they were finally able to muster enough strength to peel themselves from the rough table, he scooped her up softly in his arms and carried her quietly back to the bed. Folding her gently to his chest, he felt his eyes close, and they faded into sleep.


	24. Dangerous Game

**Hawke awoke to Anders knocking heavily on the door.**

"You're going to be late if you don't hurry," He called.

She groggily lifted herself onto her elbows, casting a still half-asleep eye over the dwarf snoring softly into her side. In her stupor she managed to slip a hand under his chin, leaning it up to meet her lips.

Varric cracked one eye as he felt her breath tickle his lips softly.

"Good morning," He croaked quietly, a grin sneaking onto his face.

"Good morning," She answered, mimicking him with a small smile, "Anders says we'll be late if we don't head out now..."

"Would that be so bad?" Varric postured, lying back and lacing his fingers behind his neck.

"We'd be living up to expectations, I'm sure," Hawke smirked, "But why don't we surprise them?"

She pulled herself up, slipping off the mattress and gathering her clothing. When she found her shirt, she looked it over in rueful silence.

"I knew it," she sighed after a moment, "You managed to rip it around the collar... What am I going to do?"

Varric thought in bashful silence for a moment before getting up and pulling his own clothing from the heap they'd left it in the night before, "I've got an idea..."

He hiked on his breeches as Hawke looked him up and down, her eyes catching on the gentle rise and fall of his chest, obscured occasionally by his thickly muscled arms. He looked up just in time to see her wet her lips subconsciously.

Rolling his eyes, he chuckled, "You're impossible, you know that?"

When she gave no answer, simply balling her shirt in her hands once again, he outright laughed.

"What? See something you like, Hawke?"

He threw his tunic over his head, sighing as he dressed himself the rest of the way. At last he found the item of clothing he was hoping for-- a red scarf he'd sometimes worn on the cooler nights of patrol. He remembered stuffing it into the pocket of his duster the night before-- just in case he'd had to make a break for it after their evening together. Now it seemed that the maker left him a piece of serendipity that may help more than he'd known.

"Here," He said, turning around and pressing the red cloth into Hawke's chest, not making eye contact with her as he did so.

"I'm sorry I ripped your shirt. But, just remember who put me in that scenario, hmm?"

A small smile parted Hawke's lips as she made an attempt at replying.

"We're not going to wait much longer! If you're not coming, have the decency to let us know," Anders' sharp voice cut through her thoughts, however, his annoyance clearly evident.

" _Us?_ " Hawke mouthed to Varric, raising an eyebrow.

Varric chuckled, "We're coming, Blondie. Just let Hawke finish up."

The smirk in his voice sounding particularly pronounced.

With an audible sigh, Anders relented. Hawke threw her shirt on and unfolded the scarf, drawing it over her shoulders and attempting to tie it behind her, causing her chin and nose to be enveloped in Varric's scent.

_Maker, but what this does to me,_  she couldn't help but think.

"Ready?" he asked, hand clasped around the doorknob.

Hawke answered only in a kiss pressed to his forehead, before pushing past him and opening the door herself.

"All right, Anders, enough badgering!" She called, her singsong comment cut painfully short as she opened the door to the grins of the cloud of companions camped outside their door.

"Did you have fun, at least?" Dorian chuckled, "You two managed to very nearly oversleep the summit... Though, certain others gave you a run for your money,"

He motioned to a very red Alistair, and a Janna whose eyes fell to the floor.

"We found them tangled in the bedsheets wearing nothing but sleep-deprived smiles. They must have gone at it like rabbits," he continued, before Evinn gave him an incredulous look.

Alistair's head sank nearly to his shoulders as Janna looked mortified by the comment.

"Seems like we were the only ones to <resist> the call of the wild," Dorian huffed, glancing his lover up and down, "but far be it from me to keep us waiting-- Here is our escort, now."

A pair of elven ears twitched at Dorian's mention.

Merrill looked the picture of health, if a bit nervous, as she motioned to get the group moving to the war room posthaste. Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed Hawke, however, her large eyes swimming ever so slightly with tears.

"Hawke--" She managed weakly, pressing past Dorian to envelope the wiry mage girl in a tight hug.

Hawke seemed surprised by the interaction, "Merrill?"

"Yes-- its me," She sputtered, "And I know that they've explained it to everyone already-- that you're not really from this world, and that with the time magic we were only _really_ trying to bring the Inquisitor back, but, I'm just so glad to see you! And I just--"

Hawke managed to bring the elf girl to her senses with a gentle pat on the head, her fingers resting softly atop the bindings in her hair, "but I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

"No more than usual," Hawke chuckled to herself as Merrill withdrew with a cough to gain composure.

"But, er, as I was saying..." Merrill sighed, "They want you all to enter together-- as a unified force."

"what about Sparkler, and I?" Varric interjected, "As members of the Inquisition, we probably should try to sneak in, shouldn't we?"

It was Alistair's turn to clear his throat awkwardly, "And I... actually better sit this one out."

Janna wheeled in surprise.

"They told me last night... Denerim has now allied with the Black City, by order of the new Warden Commander, Clarel. Any support I, and the other wardens, may offer-- Anders included, unfortunately, must not be in the name of Denerim."

When Janna moved to protest, Alistair waved her away with a sigh.

"I meant to tell you last night, but you were so intent on celebrating that I figured it might ruin the mood..."

But that was all she would hear on the matter, as Janna gripped Hawke and Evinn by the wrists tightly, growling, "Come on. We're wanted in the war room," and pulled them along behind her.

The others were left to stand bewildered beside Merrill, watching as the champion, the hero and the inquisitor were welcomed with a loud, triumphant bellow. The doors to the war room snapped shut behind them, everyone left staring at one another and wondering just what had happened.

"you have the worst timing," Anders shook his head, extending a hand to clasp the warden's shoulder in apology.

When Varric and Dorian echoed the sentiment, Alistair looked at them in surprise.

"I thought I was doing the right thing!"

* * *

When the four men entered the war room to hear the summit, they watched as Solas took the floor. His arms folded behind him, he walked gracefully, commanding all eyes upon him. A deadly silence fell over his audience as he finally spoke.

"My friends. We thank you once again for joining us. We are fortunate to have those heroes among us that claim such respect; that hold such admirable qualities,"

Varric tried not to snort at that,

"And whose untimely deaths have affected us all in immeasurable ways."

He continued, lauding the success of the magic used on this such occasion, and how Corypheus would likely be taken off guard when he realized just who he faced.

"What Corypheus does not realize," He boomed, "Is that he faces not only the power behind the Inquisition, but the power behind all of Thedas, rising up against him!"

Many cheers erupted at this, only to be silenced by Janna raising her hand as she stepped forward.

"We are ready to assist, Solas," She stated, her tone still noticibly grim, "We only wish to know what would you have us do?"

Eyes fell back upon Solas, as he nodded, a grin slipping onto his face.

"You will help, Warden Commander, by removing any resistance in our way."

He launched into a speech about the artifact that plagued the Inquisitor with his mark; how it must not be touched unless safely handled by an expert. He spoke about its mounting as a current hood ornament, and how by drawing Corypheus out into the open, he planned to have the Inquisition seperate the Black City troops into segments, which could, as he put it, easily be dispatched by those loyal to the Inquisition.

Solas motioned to the supporters from Kirkwall, and the former wardens of Denerim, "Have we not supporters-- those willing to fight in our honor to preserve our legacy? We will use you-- mold you into the greatest force anyone could ever imagine! And we will win! We will knock this mutant from his self-proclaimed seat of power!"

Words of assent rippled at his response, many from Kirkwall shouting, "Here, here!"

"And when his blood is cold on the ground, we will assist our triumphant heroes in their return to their rightful homes," he finished, a flourish pointing to the three who quietly watched as he spoke, "Just as they will have assisted us."

The crowds erupted at this, showing that the elf had clearly garnered their support. Solas smiled, and bade everyone a successful continuation of the summit, stepping down and allowing proceedings to follow. With a nod, and a wave of his arm, he ushered the visitors to follow him, as Merrill and Dorian slipped in beside them.

* * *

 

They arrived at the library as the heat of midday pounded overhead. Janna walked ahead of the others, wrenching open the door and ushering them inside.

Evinn could take no more as curiosity threated to overtake him, "Janna, what is going on with you?"

"I'm too weak," She spat in answer, looking darkly at the grain of the wooden door.

This comment gave little to work off of. Luckily Hawke seemed lost as well, as she interjected, "You know, elaboration would help us understa--"

A severe look caused her mouth to snap shut midsentence, however.

"I'm weak. I didn't sense anything was wrong beyond his sadness at my leaving him to go home, and I allowed myself to be swayed, all because..."

She paused for a moment, visibly torn over whether or not to reveal her secret.

Her decision came with great inner turmoil, and eyes were on her as she drew a deep breath.

"I think... I've been hearing the Calling. I thought it might be the last time I'd see him, and I know I'd regret it if I never got to say goodbye, and--"

Hawke was the first to realize as she stepped forward, grasping Janna's shoulders and looking her straight in the eye, "How long has it been happening? When did you realize it?"

Janna raised an eyebrow, "A little while? I started hearing it just after some news came that the Inquisitor mended the tear in the sky... I was in a city re-supplying, when--"

Evinn and Hawke clasped each other's hands, attempting to contain their outbursts as they exchanged excited glances.

Janna seemed unimpressed however, interjecting flatly, "I've just told you that I'm quite possibly dying of the taint, while searching for a cure, and you seem thrilled by the idea."

"That's just it!" Evinn couldn't contain the outburst any longer, "Alistair's explained it to us-- you're not really hearing the calling!"

She opened her mouth to speak, but when no words came out, she closed it quietly, thoroughly confused.

"You see, Corypheus... in our world... claims to be a darkspawn magister..."

" _Just like the Architect..._ " Janna murmured in an aside to herself, casting Evinn a confused look as he continued, "Hawke killed him once already, but apparently he came back... And Alistair's theorized that now he's somehow manipulating the minds of the Grey Wardens, because _every warden in Orlais_  is hearing the Calling at once! Clarel is acting Warden Commander at the moment, just like here, and she's terrified that all wardens will fall before the next blight, and according to Alistair, her fear is being manipulated--"

" _That little shit_ \-- He's hearing the Calling too?!"

The thought stuck in her mind as a spike of emotion -- hope, fear, she didn't know what-- causing her to yelp the words before she could stop them.

"Well, yes, but..."

"He opted not to tell me," She groaned, "Whether it be for my personal benefit-- or simply selfishness in case it blew over, I'll never know. I ought to give him an earful when I get back..."

_If I get back..._

She withdrew into herself as the others ushered her into the room, closing the door behind them with a click.

"Janna..."

Evinn's compassionate side took over as he scooped the warden up and enveloped her in a hug, holding her gently for a moment. She seemed awkward at first, before allowing herself to accept the comfort her attempted to provide.

Even Dorian gave no comment as Evinn released the girl, allowing them all to settle at the back of the room, while Merrill and Solas set about lighting lamps and readying documents.

Janna simply nodded to Evinn, giving him a small smile of appreciation as they got down to work.

"I'm sorry... This is just a lot to process... But, we have bigger things to worry about right now, don't we? Let's get back to it."

"What are we working on now?" Hawke asked, interests piqued as she noted the drawings of Eluvians that Merrill plopped down in front of them.

Solas pulled a chair away at the head of the table, sitting down and motioning for them to join him.

"We are looking into the different possibilities available in restoring you to your home worlds."

It was merrill's turn to interject as she pressed a finger to one of the drawings of the Eluvian on the table in front of her, "Hawke, you remember my studying of the Eluvian, and my attempts to restore the one my clan came across?"

Hawke's shoulders stiffened at the recollection, "Vaguely..."

"Well, Solas, and the tinker, Morrigan, have been able to explore our restoration attempts a bit more in-depth-- or at least, they _were_ able to, until the area where we kept the Eluvian was overrun with Black City warbands," Merrill's temper was quickly appearing as she spoke of the lost technology.

Hawke looked taken aback all the same, "Are you saying you were able to restore it?"

Merrill bit her lip, "Very nearly... We were able to determine what the key was, for making it work. That was the last thing we needed, after all."

"And? What is it, then?" Hawke seemed impatient; clearly alarmed by the news.

Merrill stood still as her eyes met with Hawke's.

"We believe it to be the orb... the one Corypheus is in possession of."


	25. Setting Things Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dorian and Evinn work through some stuff.

**It was regrettable that Solas had to lie to his friend once more.**

Regrettable, but again, necessary.

If the orb was to be saved, he needed to find a reason for the Inquisitor to save it himself-- he could not leave it up to chance once more. Finding the compendium on time travel in Tevinter had been a boon after all, and it was one he did not intend to waste. He doubted that Dorian or Alexius knew how close to a breakthrough they had been in their supplemental notes on magic-- with modifications to their theory, and his additional newfound power, he was able to not only traverse through time, but through the very fabric of reality, to find another land that contained his orb.

And now that he found it, he simply had to play the waiting game.

~~\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------~~

Evinn was restless at dinner.

He'd yet to encounter an Eluvian, and the thought of using this vein of magic to go home, when it was a rift that brought them here, set him on edge.

Dorian observed with a silent, grim expression as Evinn took a sullen bite, his hand clamped tightly around the silverware as if it might run away from him.

Dorian spoke after a few moments, in an attempt to ground his lover, "They expect us to close that rift tonight, you know..."

When Evinn glanced up, it was a look of surprise.

"Are they sure we can handle it?"

"We won't be alone," Dorian shrugged, "Harding and some of Leliana's other fine scouts will be following us."

This seemed to relax Evinn slightly, "Do they expect the Hero and Champion to come with us?"

In saying this he motioned along the wooden table to where the other couples sat in heated discussion, Hawke laughing uproariously at something Janna had said, which seemed to infuriate her. Alistair's arm was snaked around Janna's shoulders sympathetically, seeming to have resolved their previous spat, while Varric attempted not to spur Hawke on by keeping himself from laughing along with what was said.

"If you're worried about them, we can leave them behind for the evening," Dorian smirked, "After all, they probably won't notice if we slip out quietly."

Casting an eye over the others once more, Evinn gave Dorian a small nod, slipping out of his seat and following as they made their escape.

Outside the air was cool as a dusty breeze greeted them under the silvery moonlight. Dorian turned to watch as Evinn instinctively closed his eyes, embracing the gentle push and pull of magic in the air. Though it was true that the link to the Fade was weaker in this world, the more time he spent here, the more he could feel the magic threading itself through him.

Dorian watched as Evinn's mark pulsed from under it's linen wrappings.

It was such an enigma to him.

As they had gone to sleep the night before, Dorian found himself pressed close to the Inquisitor's chest and cradled by the hand bearing the mark. It astonished him to know that the mark gave off no heat-- simply light, and a thrum of unfamiliar magic. As Dorian had felt Evinn drifting off to sleep, he noticed the pitch of the magic change just slightly, seemingly whining at the sudden reconnection to the Fade.

He wondered if Evinn dreamt of the world he was missing. Of the lover he was missing.

They were so similar and yet, so different-- Dorian didn't know if Evinn felt the difference, but it was obvious to him.

That was the reason that, despite the way his heart ached and pleaded with his mind, he did not pursue more in the night previous. There were hangups in his mind that plucked at him like a lute out of tune. There had been moments when he was overwhelmed by the familiarity, he had to admit, but his mind couldn't help but come back with the same shrill thoughts of discontent;

_His_ Evinn did not bear the mark of a spell gone awry. _His_  Evinn lay cold in the ground, sleeping for too many cycles, after death took him too soon.

He shivered as the wind whipped around him once more, and a hand on his shoulder dragged him back from the present.

"Dorian?" The voice of his lover pressed down on his heart heavily.

"I'm sorry, Amatus. Let's get a warmachine ready," He sighed, with a shake of his head.

He had to concentrate on why this version of his Amatus came here in the first place; it was his magic-- his theory-- that had ripped him so unceremoniously from the world he came from. Unintended or not, these were the consequences of his actions.

Dorian steeled his nerves, selecting a griffin from the garage and giving Dagna a small nod.

"We're heading out on patrol. Harding and the others should be following eventually," He stated.

Dagna nodded in answer, before putting a hand on Evinn's elbow, gently pulling him aside before the mages could escape into the night.

"I know you're back to help us-- I just wanted to say thank you, again."

Evinn's eyes lit up in surprise as the small dwarf clasped his arm gently.

"I'm... Happy to help," he stammered, the tips of his ears growing rosy as he spoke.

Dorian caught himself smiling at the interaction-- there was no doubt that many things were still the same. But that was why these interactions gave him such an internal conflict.

At last the two loaded into the Griffin, and as they left the city for the sprawling desert, Evinn watched Dorian as he operated the warmachine with ease. They spent the first hour of their journey in silence, Evinn acutely aware that Dorian was too lost in his own thoughts to carry on a conversation. He knew what the necromancer may be thinking about, however.

He remembered the night before quite differently; while Dorian had felt the Inquisitor falling asleep at his back, it was only after a few hours that he awoke to his lover trembling in the dark, whimpering in fitful sleep and begging Evinn to wake up-- come back, and not leave him alone once again. The sleeptalking had shaken him to the core, but as he attempted to awaken Dorian, the Tevinter had simply buried his face in the Inquisitor's arms, taking a deep breath and mumbling in Tevene once more.

Whether Dorian chose to show how much Evinn's reappearance had shaken him, or no, Evinn didn't know if it was his place to bring things up at the moment.

Still, he found himself drawn to this Dorian; the resemblance was uncanny-- just as the others had expressed, it took every fiber in his being not to simply go back to the way things were in his world; Dorian was his first lover, his truest friend, and the only one he could imagine being with. Even after all the craziness that happened with the Inquisition, he always counted Dorian as the most important gain he could thank the organization for. And while his body longed for the intimacy that came with the closeness he'd generated with the mage, he knew that Dorian needed time to process his feelings as well.

Evinn's mind wandered, nonetheless, to the fact that the others had given in to such carnal desires. Having caught Janna and Alistair naked in bed just that morning, it was obvious that romantic tensions were running high wherever they looked. Evinn couldn't help the fire that began to burn in the pit of his stomach, his heart beating faster at the thought-- he and Dorian had only recently become acquainted in that way in his home world-- but now he burned for the passion that overtook him when he found himself in the Tevinter's embrace.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, noticing with embarassment that his cheeks burned crimson under the cool moonlight, the warmth in his gut refusing to subside.

It seemed that Dorian was still deep in thought, however, and didn't notice.

The radio crackled loudly, causing both men to jump as Harding announced her group's position. Dorian scooped the transciever up from its position on the dashboard, answering quickly. He reported they still had a few hours until they came upon the rift, but that they were well on their way.

Harding answered succintly, and with that Dorian replaced the transciever, and cast his first glance at Evinn since they'd begun the drive.

"I... Amatu-- ... Inquisitor. I'm sorry,"

He seemed conflicted.

"Amatus?" Evinn tried, his hand slipping behind Dorian's neck as he looked the mage over, "Is everything all right?"

Dorian seemed slightly surprised by the physical motion, though he didn't squirm away from the Inquisitor's touch. Quite the opposite, it seemed, as he relaxed his head against the seat behind him, noting the green glow now behind his ears in the rearview mirror.

 

"I'll admit, I haven't been a very gracious host, Amatus." He struggled the statement out after a moment. Evinn seemed confused by the phrase.

"I don't think you need to be concerned with being a host, love," He shrugged, the hand behind Dorian's head rubbing small circles with his forefinger and thumb at the base of Dorian's skull. The mage's eyes nearly closed at the sensation, before he snapped himself back to reality.

"If you're not careful, you'll put me to sleep, Amatus." He said with a candid smile, motioning for Evinn to remove his hand. With a slight frown the mage withdrew, and listened as Dorian continued, "But what I meant to say, is that since it is my fault that you're here, I feel the need to make sure you're... comfortable."

"Dorian, please," Evinn pleaded gently, "My arrival here was no one's fault. It's like you said-- the magic reacted in ways we couldn't have predicted, and--"

"Nonetheless," Dorian cut in, "It doesn't change the fact that you're here now. Not only that, but once again you've been put in danger at our expense..."

"Dorian!" Evinn's tone became stern, scolding. Dorian couldn't resist glancing from the road, his eyes resting for a moment on the furrowed brow of his Amatus.

"Do not beat yourself up about what happened back there. I did what had to be done."

The way he spoke made Dorian sure that Evinn wanted those to be the final word on the subject. Even so, the thought snuck out before he could stop it, "As Inquisitor, you always do what must be done. Regardless of what happens to you in the process. Regardless of what it does to me."

He knew he'd struck a nerve when the light eminating from Evinn's hand was squeezed shut tight, to the point of extinguishing. Part of him regretted saying what he did, but it was too late to go back on his words.

Evinn shook his head, sadness leeching from his voice, "What's happened, to make you so bitter?"

Dorian scoffed.

"I'll have you remember that I've always _been_ bitter. You just radiated enough of the opposite energy not to see it..."

Evinn gave no reply to this, simply balling the linen of his shirt hem in his hands as they drove onward.

Dorian sighed, "Not often, anyway. Evinn, When you died, suddenly there was no light to counteract that darkness. I've fallen into old habits, without you to pull me back."  
  
"Well I'm here now-- _let_ me."

Dorian was surprised by the feeling of lips at his neck, pressing gently but urgently into him. He nearly swerved in surprise, pulling away and giving the Inquisitor an incredulous look.

"Amatus, I'm driving!"

Evinn's tone was warm, palpable tension filling the cab as something in him seemed to click, and he growled, "Then find somewhere safe to _stop_ driving."  
  
It was clear to Evinn that Dorian needed tending to; whether it be release or forgiveness, it remained to be seen. One thing was for sure, however. Evinn wanted to see the old Dorian return to him once more.


	26. Radio Chatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not going to lie, this chapter was a struggle to write-- i'm really sorry if it comes across as such... i may work on it further in the future. but for now, here it is. hope you enjoy it!

**"Ask me to stop, and I will."**

Dorian gulped back a deep breath, his heart hammering in his ears. They had pulled off from their breakneck pace through the dunes to a small outcrop of rock, away from any other vehicle that could have seen them; any vehicle that could have interrupted them.

_You had some misgivings about going any further, did you not?_

The thought pounded in Dorian's mind as Evinn watched him quietly. He seemed almost as if psyching himself up to pounce. It clicked to Dorian as he watched Evinn a few moments longer, "Amatus, you're..."

"Not acting like myself, am I?"

The Inquisitor sighed softly. His charade was discovered, it seemed. He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke, "Dorian, I'm sorry... I needed to do something-- anything-- to get you to stop that _cycle_ of thought. I know you, Amatus. Too well..."

"And you knew I'd keep dwelling on things, unless something more tantilizing came along," Dorian replied, a somewhat exasperated smirk slipping onto his lips, "Well? We're here now... What do we do?"

Evinn looked confused by the question. When he gave no reply but a shrug, Dorian chuckled.

"You had to have had some plan, for once I stopped driving?"

Evinn's hands clenched at the hem of his linen shirt once again as his desire throbbed, sending heat and want coursing through him.

_He wanted to kiss the Tevinter until he couldn't take it any more. He wanted Dorian to want **him** more._

_He wanted Dorian to take him_.

Instead he said nothing, his ears and cheeks burning crimson under the moonlight.

"Come now!" Dorian outright laughed-- but whether it was cruel laughter or not, Evinn couldn't decide.

"I'm sorry," He managed to mumble in response.

He shouldn't have tried to initiate anything.

Dorian pressed a lever beneath his seat, sliding the cushioned chair back and away from the pedals of the warmachine, and crossing his legs just slightly. His arms hooked behind his head, cradling his neck as he stared out at the night sky.

"Spit it out, Evinn. You obviously wanted something..."

At last, the Inquisitor could take it no longer.

"You're being too callous, Dorian! Maker's sake, I love you!"

Breath caught hard in Dorian's throat at those words.

_Every time._

"Amatus, what have I done wrong?"

Tears were falling before Evinn could stop them. He knew he looked foolish, no longer able to meet the Tevinter's gaze.

The memory came swift and vivid to Dorian as Evinn fought back the sobs. This was all too familiar...

He sat up, unable to take the way the Inquisitor was carrying on any longer. He turned in his seat, grabbing Evinn's left wrist tightly. His fingers flexed open instinctively, revealing the mark once more.

"It's this!" Dorian roared, "This mark! _My_ Amatus didn't have this burden. You both played hero, and when he _died_  saving Haven, you received this instead-- and I can't tell if that's a worse fate!"

Evinn looked taken aback.

"What-- you think I haven't noticed that it's _actively_ hurting you?! You'd have to be daft not to! You think I didn't realize _why_ you sought out Solas after the surgeons patched you up at Haven? Amatus-- you're _about_ to use it to help us once again, but at what cost?"

"Dorian, I--"

The remark was interrupted as Dorian released Evinn's wrist, and instead grabbed the back of his neck hard, forcing the Inquisitor into a rough kiss. He bit down on Evinn's bottom lip, hard, in the same instance dragging his tongue across the soft flesh. He keened at the sensation. A few more feverish moments passed, Dorian's fingers searching and seeking, tenderly digging into his lover's scalp as they kissed, before finally releasing the mage to breath raggedly from his passenger seat, taken off guard at the motion.

"I-- wha--?"

"I can't fight this any more, Amatus," Dorian's reply was hushed, "I can't fight _you_ anymore. This mark is already here, and if Solas hasn't found a way to remove it, then there likely isn't a way. If I've been able to deal with it in your world, well... It's not fair to push you away because of it in mine."

"It's not a death sentence, Amatus... Not yet."

Dorian chuckled.

"No, I suppose it's not."

He cleared his throat.

"For whatever reason, however, I kept finding myself drawn to it as a reason to seperate you from my Amatus. I now realize that that is foolish, however, as you've proven in as may ways you can that you are him," he scooped Evinn's hand up once more, "In every way but that one."

"Dorian..."

"Amatus, I think I've wallowed enough for one night... Perhaps it's time we got back on the road."

Dorian began to move his seat closer to the wheel once more, when Evinn placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Dorian, wait..."

Evinn willed himself to act; Dorian's kiss had set a fire in his gut that was only spurning him onward. He thrust himself toward the Tevinter, his arms latching around his neck and covering Dorian with kisses.

Dorian reciprocated in earnest, his tongue teasing Evinn's lips open and slipping inside, tangling and inviting him to reach deeper. He obliged, his fingers wrapping tightly in the collar of the Tevinter's loose jacket. without thinking, Evinn began to remove it, his lips travelling down from Dorian's lips to arc over the lightly scented skin of his neck.   
Dorian's eyes snapped shut tightly at the sensation, a groan building at the back of his throat. He grabbed a handful of Evinn's hair and tugged, feeling the other mage's breathing hitch on his collarbone as he moaned, "Ngh-- so rough--"

Another tug.

"You're enjoying it," Dorian challenged, with a smirk.

Evinn gave no reply, instead taking solace in the fact that Dorian was now wrestling his arms out of the sleeves of his jacket. The loose linen shirt below was held together by a smooth, polished line of metal buttons that Evinn fretted over for a moment; it figured that even in the desert, in the most dire circumstances, the Tevinter still managed to remain dressed meticulously.

Dorian watched him with a bemused expression until Evinn decided on a different path. He pressed a hungry kiss to Dorian's lips once more, and as he did so, placed a hand on the Tevinter's knee. Dorian seemed to get the message quickly, his own hand following, then guiding Evinn up his thigh to rest against the bulge of his cock.

He bit back a groan as Evinn slid his hand around the outline of his member, before hooking his fingers through the laces of Dorian's breeches and exposing him to the night air. Under the moonlight, Evinn could see the muscles of Dorian's abdomen tensing at the subtle stimulation of his breath through the loose cloth of his shirt. With one hand, he brushed the fabric up, and out of the way. Evinn leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on Dorian's stomach, his other hand seeking it's prize; Dorian moaned as Evinn's fingers stroked a smooth, languid motion, from base to tip.

"I've noticed, that mark of yours gives off no heat," He managed weakly, watching with a sort of satisfaction. Evinn was bathed in a soft green light, the wrappings around his hand growing loose with his movements. He withdrew for a moment, unsure of how to take the comment, until Dorian simply snapped his hand up and removed the cloth, allowing light to filter through the cab.

"I like being about to see you," Dorian smirked.

Evinn gave him a small, red-faced grin as he dipped back down below, his hands once more readying Dorian before taking him in his mouth.

The Tevinter quickly found himself threading his fingers in the other mage's short hair once again, mumbling, "Fuck, Amatus..." as Evinn set a pace.

_It had been so long_ , was all he could think to himself.

Evinn ran a hand down Dorian's thigh as he worked, giving him a tight squeeze. With another tug of his hair, he gave a muffled moan, much to Dorian's amusement. Evinn wrapped his fingers around Dorian's length as he continued to pleasure him, feeling Dorian's movements become more feverish, his will seeming to fray at the edges, when suddenly--

Radio static filled the cab. A familiar voice called for recognition.

"Dorian? Harding here, what's your status?"

Evinn's breath caught in his throat as Dorian's heart skipped a beat. He began to let Dorian out of his mouth, when a hand on his head held him in place; he looked up to see Dorian with a wicked twinkle in his eye.

He moved only slightly to scoop the transciever from it's position on the dashboard, placing a finger to his lips as he met Evinn's gaze.

"Dorian, here," He kept his tone even, despite the slight shift of his hips. Evinn looked up at Dorian, wide eyed as he continued, seeing if the Inquisitor would respond.

"We've fallen behind, if only slightly," Dorian's breathing increased slightly. Evinn had begun moving slowly, his heart pounding in his ears. Dorian struggled to keep composure as he clutched the transciever with one hand, "We thought we had a flat. Turned out to be nothing. W-we should be back on the r-road shortly,"

He was rapidly losing control, his pumping becoming more like fucking the Inquisitor's mouth as he temporarily released the transciever to cry out, throwing an arm over his mouth.

"Amatus, I'm close," He moaned, "Please--"

The radio crackled once again, Harding's confusion clear over the speakers, "Dorian? Are you sure everything is okay? Do you need help?"

He sucked in a breath of air, desperately grappling the transceiver once again "No-- No, no- no need to stop-- we'll be back on the road soon enough."

Dorian dropped the transceiver as he forced a knuckle into his mouth to keep from crying out, one hand anchored on the Inquisitor's nape, begging him to continue, to drive him over the edge.

Scout Harding's chuckle could be heard from the other side of the radio when she answered after a moment of contemplation, "... If you say so, Dorian. We'll head on without you two, and wait for your signal... Harding out."

Evinn's ears burned crimson as Harding giggled into the transciever, Dorian seeming to pay her no mind.

He was too close to care any longer.

"Amatus, I'm about to-- please--"

Evinn took Dorian to the hilt, delicately caressing his balls as the Tevinter fucked his mouth feverishly. He was thrown over the edge with a strangled moan, his hips spasming as he released himself in the Inquisitor. Orgasm sent his hips rolling, and Evinn kept him sheathed until he was sure the Tevinter was finished. Dorian pulled out at long last, falling back limply into the driver's seat and casting a long, labored look at his lover.

"Fasta vass, but you're magnificent," He groaned weakly.


	27. Taking Care of Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geezus, can you believe it's been since the end of December that I've updated?
> 
> I know, I hate that it took me so long, too.
> 
> I won't bore you with details about my personal life, but things have been very hectic and stressful, including hospital visits and a really rough month depression-wise, which has made updating pretty much impossible.
> 
> but, here's a new chapter for you! I do hope you enjoy it.

**When at last they pulled up to the rift site, Evinn felt uneasy** ; they were indeed the last warmachine to arrive.

It was either that, or the fact that he could see the light of the rift casting sharp, rippling light over what was left of the cliff face-- it seemed as though the fade itself was breathing, the veil bending out toward the world as something visibly pressed against it.

As they rolled to a stop, Dorian scooped up the transciever in a half hearted response to Harding as she snickered over the radio, "Nice of you two to finally show up. If you needed alone time, all you had to do was say so."

"Well Harding, there's nothing quite like the confined quarters of a cab to really _get the engines going_ ,"

the pun was lame and he knew it, but the resounding groan from Leliana's scouts made it worth the effort. He continued, "Now then-- lets get this over with so I can dig Alexius a proper grave while the rest of you get on with your lives."

The last comment, though voiced in a light tone, fell heavily over the scouts. they met it with silence, before one by one they unloaded from their vehicles.

Once everyone had exited, Harding passed a thoughtful eye over the lovers before chuckling, "Way to kill the mood, Pavus."

With that, she motioned to Evinn, "On your mark, Inquisitor," and notched an arrow in her bow expectantly. the others followed suit, drawing weapons, and waiting for the rift to splinter under his command.

Evinn gave Dorian an uneasy look-- with his admition of so much fear regarding the mark, he wondered if it was a good idea to use it around the Tevinter. Instinctively, however, he was met with a hand tenderly clasped around his shoulder.

"Let's not keep them waiting, Amatus," he coached, softly.

Evinn stepped toward the green light, squaring his shoulders and loosing the linen strap once more. His heart skipped a beat when the mark greedily flared, a hungry fire beneath his skin. He placed his palm skyward, collecting the fade around him and feeling the two connect, as magic and energy surged, and a thread of green light snapped and popped around him.

Dorian and the others looked on in wonder as he gripped the fade itself, before feeling the mark connection secure, and pulling away, breaking the thread and activating the rift as before.

Evinn did his best to not seem drained by the action, simply shouting, "Ready your weapons!" and drawing his own stave. Harding and the others did as they were bid, loosing the first volley of arrows as a wave of demons materialized once more.

He gritted his teeth as he counted those that had burst forth; a terror, its' spindly form twisting slightly as it landed, a pride demon, and a despair demon that bobbed callously in the air.

They needed to divide and conquer if they had a chance. That much was clear to him.

"Provoke the big one," he called, casting a barrier around all in close range.

The demon's own ears seemed to perk up at the suggestion, rearing its horned shoulders as it rounded on him. Evinn drew the hilt of his knight enchanter's sword, and flicking his wrist to materialize the blade in one fluid motion.

He didn't know if it was effective way to goad on the pride demon, but he did notice that the terror seemed to focus on him almost immediately afterward-- not always a good sign, he cursed to himself.

"Amatus, focus any firepower _you_ have on the floater in the corner," He called, his gaze shifting intently to see a rune cast at the despair demon's feet-- glowing red and hot before an explosion engulfed it. Dorian didn't pause to admire his handiwork, however; with determination he began forcing magical energy out of his staff with quick, sweeping movements, a steady cascade of fire and lightning falling over the despair demon until with a shriek, it dissipated.

Evinn wasted no more time simply watching, however, as he gripped his blade tightly. The others had been loosing as many arrows as they could notch into the pride demon, which seemed only to aggravate the thing more. Evinn felt his body tense as he readied himself to fade step-- magic radiated off him in a cool wave, and he took off in an icy bolt. He felt himself pass through the pride demon, leaving a frosted trail, and when he materialized at the demon's back, he turned his blade and drove it hard into the beast. It roared, clearly hurt by the action, and had whirled around when a spirit bolt collided with enough force to send it stumbling. The demon's electric tendril whipped high in the air as it fell, threatening to come down on the tight bundle of scouts to its right. With a shout, Evinn barreled toward them, begging them to move-- His hand flattened against one scout's back as he haphazardly cast a fade cloak-- willing the demon's whip to pass through them. Fortunately, it did.

The whip struck the ground ineffectively and with a small shove, Evinn uprooted the scout and re-materialized unharmed.

Dorian and Scout Harding breathed a collective sigh of relief, before Scout Harding called, "Eyes on the battle at hand,everyone, don't get ahead of yourselves!"

Evinn felt his mana reserves fading quickly-- the Fade Step clearly over-exerted what he'd had left. A swathe of green light wrapped around Evinn as he felt a barrier materialize around him. His heartrate spiked, however, as he heard the terror screeching loudly as it clawed at the ground beneath it, opening a hole in the fade through which it began to   
disappear.

"Everyone, scatter!" He shouted, a flick of his wrist igniting his blade once again, "The terror will be coming back."

Over-exerted or not, he needed to regain control of the battle-- he wouldn't be responsible for the loss of the Inquisition's troops once again.  
  
Suddenly Dorian was on his back with twisted, gnarled claws sinking deep into his shoulders as it pinned him hard to the ground. The sound he made was a surprised, clipped groan, followed shortly after by the wind being knocked out of him. Evinn shot over to his side, fear and surprise twisting his face as he moved to kick the terror off of his lover.

"Dorian!"

With blind terror, his name was screamed-- ripped from Evinn's throat hoarsely as the wind howled around them. The terror relented slightly as Evinn's boot made contact-- it's ugly form twisting to look at him for just a moment, when a blast of magical energy threw the beast off balance. It fell to the ground with a crash, and one of Harding's scouts was on it in an instant, twin daggers sinking into it's flesh with little resistance.

It dematerialized with a howling screech, and the daggers clattered quietly to the sand below. The desert was silent, save for the crackling of the rift above them.

Evinn scrunched his eyes shut tight, willing himself not to immediately drop to his knees and scoop the other mage up in his arms-- instead, honing in on the magical signature still leeching into the world around him.

Dorian struggled to prop himself up on his elbows as he watched Evinn's heavy breathing beginning to slow. He felt the pop of connection as the anchor found the rift--everyone breathing easier as the tear knit itself back together, before disappearing just as quickly as it'd come.

In the darkness, Evinn allowed himself to fold, his knees buckling beneath him, to land at Dorian's side with a soft thump.

"Certainly didn't make it easy, did they?" Dorian groaned, motioning to Scout Harding and the others, who fetched a satchel from one of the griffons.

He fished out a familiar blue tonic, draining half in one drought before handing Evinn the other half.

"Dorian, I--"

Evinn was waved off, however, as Dorian curtly replied, "I'm fine, Amatus. It simply caught me off guard. You'll need this. Drink up."

While he knew this wasn't the case-- he could see blood tingeing the buttoned shirt beneath Dorian's jacket-- he didn't press the matter. Following Dorian's example, he tipped the bottle down his throat, feeling the intense tingle of lyrium ignite his very veins. He handed the bottle back to Dorian, who simply stoppered the thing and replaced it in the bag, before they helped each other to their feet once more.

Dorian wobbled against him, and as Evinn reached out to help him, his hand came back slick. He cast a worried frown at the other mage, who eyed him severely in reply.

The others seemed relatively unaware of the exchange, however, as Harding ushered the scouts back to their vehicles, calling, "That's it, boys. We were assigned clean-up crew, and that's what we've done. No one wants to see a pile of bodies burned now, so let's get back on the road."

Even so, she was the last scout to embark as the others kicked up dust as they left; she stepped close as the lovers stood in silence, offering another pack, and a quiet word.

"There aren't any artifacts near by, but... There are bandages and a few poultices here. I won't stick around much longer-- but radio in if you need backup, okay?"

The quiver at the edge of her words betrayed her feelings, but Dorian simply sighed, "We're fine, Harding. Go back to Haven."

With a nod, she departed.

At last, it was only them and the howl of the wind through the dunes.

Dorian visibly deflated as soon as they were alone, allowing Evinn to guide him back to his knees. They sat together quietly as Evinn fished bandages and other medical supplies from their bag, ushering Dorian to unbutton as he worked.

Dorian stripped, his breath catching slightly as his wounds were exposed to the cold night air.

Evinn began to dress him in silence, only mumbling when he couldn't do it alone.

"Hold this, please," he motioned as he tried to wind the bandages, met with a short, painful yelp as he accidentally pulled too tight. He adjusted, apologizing quickly, before Dorian's fingers slipped beneath his chin, guiding him into a gentle kiss.

"Amatus," Dorian coaxed, quietly.

"Dorian, I'm sorry, I--"

"Amatus."

His tone was firm.

"I'm going to be alright."

"But--" Evinn began to protest, but Dorian tutted and he stopped.

"If you are worried about me, then help me find Alexius' amulet. It has a certain boosting capability that should work similarly to an artifact. It _should_ also have a trace-able signature."

With a huff, Dorian pushed off Evinn's shoulder to his feet, attempting to hide the way he clutched his shoulder as he walked toward the rubble on the battlefield.

Evinn closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He concentrated on the feeling of the fade around them-- the repaired rift still leeched magic in a way that made it difficult to pick out other frequencies, but perhaps if he focused hard enough--

he felt the breach.

he felt Dorian.

Far off to their right, he felt a faint pulse.

"I think I found it."


	28. the Tide is turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is an extremely short chapter, and i apologize for it, but i wanted to sort of write a wrap up for this point in the story. things have been very slow going as far as writing goes the past couple months, but i promise i have not forsaken you.

**It took them nearly two hours to comb through the rubble and wreckage** , Dorian eerily quiet, until the last slab of stone was pulled back, revealing Alexius' rig tipped on its side.

Grief and relief washed over Dorian simultaneously; Evinn forcibly held him back as he began to climb the rig.

"Dorian," Evinn cautioned, his hands gripping the Tevinter tightly.

He began to protest, but Evinn waved it off, mounting the wheel and pulling himself up to the cabin door. He wrenched it open, and the smell of decay greeted him. Evinn shuddered, willing himself to steady.

A muted glint of moonlight off polished stone caught Evinn's eye; there the jewelry hung, its chain dangling from the rearview mirror. He removed it quietly, a bit of dust falling from the wreckage as he disturbed the amulet. He took a shallow breath, willing himself not to look at the twisted form of Alexius as he exited the vehicle once more.

He did not remember the magister fondly, but in his own world he'd treated the magister with respect, sparing his life at Dorian's request-- but even so, he held no love for the Tevinter that clearly was eager to kill him in Corypheus' name.

He emerged into the night air once more, spotting Dorian sitting quietly in the sand, nursing his wounds and staring up at the rig. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before Evinn tossed the amulet to him, and began the climb off the rig.

He felt Dorian channeling his magic through it almost immediately-- the Tevinter's eyes were screwed shut tight as he peeled back his blood-soaked shirt, blue light glowing around his fingertips. Evinn closed the distance between them quickly, joining Dorian in his healing efforts. Dorian felt Evinn settle in behind him, the larger man enveloping him without a word.

At last, the wounds had closed, and with a small grunt, Dorian fell back into his lover's arms. They rested in silence for a moment, the desert quiet save for their breathing.

Dorian mustered the courage to right himself at last, craning his neck ever so slightly to place a kiss on the Inquisitor's lips, before climbing to his feet.

"Amatus, I need to ask your help with this," he began, solemnly.

Evinn nodded, "Anything, Dorian."

The gentleness in the statement caused a lump to form in the back of Dorian's throat. He knew Evinn's disposition when it came to Alexius, but it was still refreshingly surprising to hear his willingness to help.  
  
Together they worked to right the vehicle-- succeeding, finally, as a cloud of dust and decay settled heavily around them, and a meloncholy ache pressed on Dorian's chest.

Evinn gathered pieces of salvage to burn in a pire as Dorian handled the corpse, silently mouthing funerary rites and cursing the Magister's stupidity in equal measure. When at last there was a sufficient amount gathered, they moved him together, and Dorian fished a book of matches from the scout's pack.

Evinn could tell that Dorian was beginning to fray around the edges as he lit the first match. A second one was lit and thrown as Dorian sucked in air through his teeth. Alexius' clothing began to catch, filling the air with smoke as the pire caught on. A third and fourth match were struck as tears streamed down Dorian's cheeks, falling silently from their perch on his chin, to the thick arm that wrapped around his middle in silent comfort. They watched the blaze pick up speed in quiet contemplation, before Dorian became wracked with sobs. Evinn gripped him gently, becoming a pillar on which Dorian leaned for support. the compassionate mage felt tears welling in his own eyes, and together they mourned the loss of a brilliant mage. No words were exchanged, but the feeling of one another gave an extreme degree of comfort.

They watched the blaze until Dorian's tears had subsided, at which point, he took Evinn's hand and led him back to their vehicle, turning his back on Alexius for the last time.

Evinn was about to open the door of the warmachine, when a hand grappled his shoulder and threw him backward against the car. nimble fingers pressed his wrists against the roof-rack, as Dorian pinned him to the Griffon with a rough kiss. Dorian's lips parted, his tongue seeking with a fervor Evinn seemed unused to.

When they broke apart once more, Evinn looked aghast.

"Thank you for tonight, Amatus," Dorian said, "I... You didn't have to stay and help me. It means a lot that you did."

"Losing someone like that can be hard," Evinn replied with a shrug, "I see no reason to leave you to bear that alone. That being said-- Are you alright? That can't have felt good for you--"

Dorian chuckled, "I'm alright, Amatus. I'm sore, but I'm sure I'll be healed by the time we return to Haven."

Evinn couldn't help but suppress a smile.

"Are you ready to head back, then?"

"I am. Let's get back to the Inquisition, and those friends of yours. I'm sure they'll be eager to hear of our exciting evening."

Evinn snorted, "Let's not tell them everything," to which Dorian quirked an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth upturning slightly.

without another word, they loaded into the Griffon and set off for Haven once more.

* * *

 

Solas could feel the uplift of magical energy as the amulet found its way back to the war room, his ears pricking up at the sensation. He closed his eyes, drawing his shoulders high as he turned, facing the Inquisitor as the doors opened behind him. Alistair and Varric were hunched over the wartable itself as Janna, Ghena and a slew of others strategized in hush tones. Their eyes followed the click of the heavy wooden doors, as Evinn and Dorian stepped into view. With no words, they simply placed the amulet on the wartable, the click of metal hitting wood echoing around them as the silence became palpable.

Realization dawned on the group, and the buzz of chatter began as everyone started talking at once.

Solas took this moment to slip between the ranks, and left the room in silence, save for the pad of his feet on the stone floor. The cool night air greeted him as he shifted his tunic thoughtfully.

He did not expect them to be so resourceful when it came to finding another way home; he thought he had been careful enough to make the Eluvian sound like the best option. Had they been able to see through it after all? If that was the case, there was no real reason for them to stay and defeat Corypheus on this timeline-- unless they felt obligated to do so.

Solas knew that the bleeding heart Inquisitor may feel an obligation-- but he couldn't count on one out of three of the heroes to be so loyal.

He needed them to stay. He needed them to kill Corypheus. He needed the orb.

It seemed that in order to ensure his success, he'd need to act swiftly to ensure there were no other options.


End file.
